Rewind
by McMahonHelmsleyEraFan
Summary: Hunter's in jail, desperately trying to remember the events that led him here
1. How did I get here?

Okay so I know I have no business starting a new story but I couldn't help myself, inspiration hit! I've got 3 chapters and most of the concluding chapter written already, so I'm confident I can finish this. It's going to go by kind of quick...it's really just filler, explaining how/why the hhh/smh relationship fell apart. Reviews are MUCH appreciated and encouraged. And I haven't decided on the title. At first this was called "Memory Lane"...it might change again lol. Here we go!

Time is a funny thing, you know. If you'd asked me in early 1999, where I'd be in 2002 I would never have guessed it would be here.

I would have never guessed I would be sitting in jail facing charges of murder. This is the second time during my marriage to Stephanie that I've ended up in a position like this. The first time this happened, it wasn't my fault and it wasn't hers either. It was her jealous, bastard ex-fiancée trying to get back at us by filing a false report claiming that I had abused her.

This time is so much different. Not only is this one my fault, but there is an excellent possibility that I'll go to prison for this. It's not like Stephanie is here to defend me, insisting that I didn't do it.

And even if I was granted an absolutely impossible miracle and she did show up to defend my innocence, I can't say that I'd take her up on the offer. I deserve what I'm facing now because I'm guilty.

The guards here are relatively nice, considering what I've done. They questioned me relentlessly but I know it's their job to do so. I also know that I've done the unthinkable, so even if they were disrespectful I don't have it in me to get angry. I feel far too devastated and disappointed in myself to have room for anger. I lost everything that I loved. _She _was everything. And I never let her know that. My actions over the last two years and three months probably say the exact opposite.

But, like I was saying. They're nice because they brought me paper and a pen, as I humbly requested. I don't know why I asked for it. If and when this goes to trial I don't exactly plan to defend myself. I don't want some fancy ass, slick lawyer to minimize what I have done and lessen my rightful punishment. I might represent myself.

Maybe I want the world to know my story. Maybe I want them to know I'm not just some consistently heinous, wife-abusing bastard. In the first year of our relationship, Steph and I were golden. Everyone could see how much we loved each other. The funny thing is that Stephanie hasn't changed much, now that I think about it. I'm the one who created the gaping hole in our marriage.

So maybe I want to write this out so that I can understand. Maybe I need to know where every turning point was. I need to be able to jump up and say "That! That right there was it!" I also want to know the specific spots that I could have said or done something different. I need to know the moments that my action or inaction could have kept me from ending up here.

Not _here _as in this jail cell. But here as in utterly and completely broken. I'm more scared than I have ever been in my entire life. And a man like me doesn't scare easily. But, I'm scared of life without Stephanie. Even if I can figure out where I went wrong – which I'm sure I will because I literally have nothing else to do but sit here and reflect – I know it won't really help me. It won't change anything. But I just need to know. I have to.

If what I'm writing does go public, I want to be thorough. There should be no question as to what happened or to whom. So I'm going to introduce myself.

My name is Hunter Hearst Helmsley. I'm a professional wrestler with the WWF. I'm sure I won't have that career for very much longer.

My wife is the daughter of the guy who started the WWF, Vincent Kennedy McMahon. She's Stephanie Marie McMahon-Helmsley. Though after tonight that definitely no longer applies.

I believe that in order to understand your present, you have to look at your past. This is a new belief. If I'd thought of this even three hours prior, I'm sure I wouldn't be in this position. But, you can't turn the clock back, can you?

In theory, you can. But, you're not allowed to change anything while you're there. You can be a spectator and that's it. That's what I'm going to do now. Observe the past year with Stephanie. I have a hunch that that's where things started falling apart the most. Sure, we had our random problems before, but we always bounced back from it. This time we didn't. It just got worse and worse and worse.

And the next thing I knew I was so angry and I couldn't see anything but red. It took me a minute to realize that my vision was tainted because there literally was red everywhere. I have never seen so much blood in my entire life. That's really saying something, since I'm known for my gratuitous use of a sledgehammer, where it concerns other men's foreheads. I have knocked out people's teeth, broken their ribs and used various sharp objects to inflict pain. I've also taken my fair share of beatings and shed a good deal of blood during my career.

And that was nothing. Absolutely nothing to me. I didn't realize how precious blood was until it was hers that was spilling with no end in sight. Every microsecond she slipped further and further away from me. I wanted, so badly to stop it from flowing. If I could I would have made it all go back inside of her somehow. Hell, I would have given her my blood if it was possible. But I couldn't do anything but watch. I stood helpless and watched her suffer. Then her eyes closed. She wouldn't wake up, wouldn't move. It was just...oh, God!

I need to stop there for a couple of reasons. The first is that I will never get this written out if my tears keep smudging the ink. Though, with my whole body shaking so badly, it wasn't like my writing was legible anyway.

The second reason is because I won't explain the present until I understand how I got to this place. Let's start with the beginning of the end. Back when I injured my quadriceps in a match.


	2. Faith

Hey all! Thanks for the reviews on ch. 1. I decided to get this up sooner rather than later so that the layout of the story is known. Basically we're starting the plot in the past. When we get nearer to the present, that's when what exactly occurred, to land him in jail, is revealed. Once that happens, I'll probably start writing it in the 3rd person. Hope you all enjoy this, let me know!

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><p>In preparation to hit Chris Jericho, I plant my leg while in mid-jog. I feel a snap and dimly wonder if it was audible. My leg gives out, twisting at an abnormal angle. While I'm falling towards the mat like a goddamn sack of potatoes, my peripheral vision catches Stephanie. I actually see her gasp, when I hit the floor.<p>

I've been in this business for a decade. Stephanie's been in it her entire 25 years of life. This injury is bad and we both know it. But I can't think about that yet. I'm not a quitter and I'll be damned if anyone even thinks to call me that.

This is the most physically agonizing few minutes of my life. The Walls of Jericho is a painful enough maneuver on healthy legs. Having it done on a blown out thigh is excruciating and right now I wish I would pass out so that he'd release it. But, I don't pass out. It hurts too damn much. And since this is taking place outside of the ring, the referee can't exactly force Chris Jericho to stop torturing me. I breathe a sigh of relief when he does stop to go help out his partner. Somehow I get my bearings back and drag myself to my feet in an to attempt to help mine.

I reach under the ring and grab my trusty sledgehammer and roll under the ropes and into the ring. I'm not as stealthy or quick as I'd like to be as I raise the sledgehammer, preparing to hit Jericho. He moves out of the way of my swing and I hit my partner, Austin right in the gut instead. I get thrown out of the ring, yet again and this time I know I won't make it back in. All I have the energy to do is curl up into a sort of fetal position and clutch my leg.

The bell rings and I'm aware that the music that's playing doesn't belong to me or my partner. So we must have lost. This isn't quite the way I want to be remembered since it's the last time I'll wrestle for a while.

Steph's at my side now, rubbing my back and asking me to describe the pain. I've never had a bullet pierce my skin before. But, my imagination tells me that if I were to get shot in the thigh and then have little demons straight from Hell stab the spot with pitchforks, it would feel like this.

The pain is too debilitating for me to say all of that, so I just groan loudly and tell her, "My quad."

She presses her lips firmly against my cheek before nuzzling her nose against it. "You're gonna be fine, baby. I see the EMT's already." She reaches out and squeezes my hand reassuringly. Her voice is perfectly steady and that's the problem. When there's no rise and fall in her tone, she's about to break down completely. I'm in no position to comfort her. Not when I'm unsure of my present and my future.

The both of us can't fall apart. Someone has to be functioning in this relationship. Someone has to be strong. When the EMT's haul me to my feet she releases my hand. Two of them help me up the ramp and I assist them by hobbling along on my good leg. These poor men are of average height, body weight and fitness. Even with my help I can hear their heavy breathing beside me. I manage to ignore the pain in my leg long enough to look back at Stephanie. She's trailing behind us, with her eyes fixed to the floor and her arms hanging limply at her sides.

Ah, Jesus. I really hope the cameras aren't still running. She's going to be upset if they get video footage of her going to pieces.

Two weeks later

It's been just over a week since I had surgery to repair my torn quadriceps muscle. The prognosis is good, though I'm not thrilled that I have to use a wheelchair for another week before I'm cleared for crutches. Call me crazy, but rolling myself around from point A to point B is just too tangible a reminder of how far my road to recovery and return is.

I've been out of the hospital for two days now. Vince is coming to visit me and Steph at our hotel in Birmingham, Alabama. I don't have a very good feeling about this. His concern isn't for Stephanie, because other than being sad at seeing me hurt, she's fine. His concern isn't for my well-being either. Well, it is, but only as it pertains to two things: money and power. I'm sure he wants to know when and if I'll come back to help sell arenas out for him. He wants to know when and if a version of the McMahon-Helmsley Faction will be back in business.

What he really wants to know is if he needs to stay on my good side. If he thought I couldn't make it back, I have no doubt he would regard me with as much value as a plastic water bottle.

All day today, I've been avoiding conversation with Stephanie because I'm _that _nervous about Vince's impending visit. It's unusual for me to be this quiet and distant, so I know she's picked up on it already. Somehow, my injury has strengthened our relationship, because of all the quality time we've spent together. It also doesn't hurt that she's playing the role of hot nurse. She'd probably quit and hire a real one if she knew how often I purposely dropped and knocked things to the floor just so she'd have to bend over to get it. It's hard to physically interact with her, with the busted leg and being loopy from the pain meds, so I'll take what I can get.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her glance over at me thoughtfully. I wonder if she's figured out why I'm being weird today. I wonder what she'd think, if she did know. Would she agree with my assessment of Daddy Dearest?

"Baby?" I ask and wait for her to turn towards me. I grimace just enough for her to notice.

Her eyes go soft and concerned. "Are you in pain?" She grabs my left hand and holds it in between both of hers. "Do you need the pills?"

I nod and give her a grateful smile before she moves from my side to go find the pain medication and water. I figure I'll knock myself out so I don't have to feign like I don't see right through Vince's bullshit. Quite frankly, Steph doesn't need the added stress of having us openly at each other's throats again. And I don't need the stress of seeing her in that state.

When she returns, she hands me two pills and a bottle of water, with the top already off for me. She's been so thoughtful and amazing these last couple of weeks. She even gave an interview via satellite to defend me against the claims Stone Cold Steve Austin was making about us losing the tag team titles. I crook a finger and she leans closer. With my left hand I reach out to cup her face and pull her in for a gentle, lingering kiss.

I pull away from her, still being able to feel her smiling lips fused with mine. "Thanks, Steph."

She grins at me and hands me my escape from suffering through Vince's insincere visit. "No problem." She threads a hand through my hair while she waits for me to finish downing the pills and water. I hand her the remaining half of the water bottle and she screws the top back onto it. She draws her bottom lip in and chews for a moment before she tells me, "I love you, Hunter. You know that right?"

Shit. So she has realized why I've acted so strangely. But, if she's not going to directly bring it up, neither am I. There is a chance – a slim chance, that I'm wrong about Vince. For her sake, I hope that I am. I allow my eyes to remain on hers very seriously. I want to make sure she feels and believes every word of what I'm about to say. "I know that. And I love you."

With a satisfied smile, she kisses me on the cheek before heading back to the kitchen.

I love her and she loves me. I just hope that that's enough to get us through the long, tough months ahead.

_Through the fog clouding my brain, I can hear them talking in the living room now._

"_8 months?"Vince questions loudly and incredulously. "Not 4 to 6?"_

"_Will you keep it down? He's sleeping!" Stephanie hisses at him. "He tore his quad totally off the bone and ruptured damn near everything around it. It'll be 8 months, unfortunately."_

"_That...that's insane, Stephanie. And what are you going to do?"_

"_What do you mean? I'm going to be here to support and help him."_

"_The hell you are! He's just a wrestler. A piece of meat. A damn dime a dozen. You and I both know he'll never wrestle again. Quite frankly, he's probably no good at anything else. He's a horse that you need to send to the glue factory. We'll get you a new one."_

_There's a loud snapping noise that can only be the sound of her hand connecting with his face. "How dare you! What is your problem, Dad?"_

"_My problem is that you're wrecking your life over nothing!"_

_I hear silence for a moment, before Stephanie takes a deep breath. "What's lying in that room is not nothing. That's my husband. Sticking by his side, is not wrecking my life, because Hunter is the man I've chosen to spend mine with. I love him and if you don't like it, you can leave."_

"_Think about what I've said Stephanie."_

_She lets out a dark chuckle. "I don't need to. My husband will make it back to the ring. And even if he didn't, I would never leave him." _

_That's the last thing I hear before the door of our hotel room slams shut. My wife comes back into the master bedroom and lays down beside me. She throws a hand over my waist and rubs softly. Her touch is the last thing I register before I give in to the drowsiness and fall unconscious again. _

I sniff loudly, turning my head towards the wonderful smell. My eyes flutter open as I beat back the effects of the pain meds.

"Pizza?" I ask.

Stephanie gives me a dazzling smile and waves a slice in front of my face. "Yeah. I figured we could indulge a little."

I eagerly take the slice from her and immediately stuff it in my mouth. "Where's Vince?" I ask between bites.

She shrugs indifferently. "Gone already. You slept through the visit," she sends me a smirk.

"What a pity," I say with a sarcastic grin. I'm not sure I want to know the answer to what I'm about to ask her next. I'm pretty confident that I didn't dream the tail end of their conversation. "How'd it go?"

"It was," she hesitates and licks her bottom lip. I can see her debating on how much she should tell me. Obviously she has no idea I was partially conscious. "I wouldn't bet on hearing from him again anytime soon," she says honestly. "He's an asshole. End of story." With that, she grabs another slice of pizza and bites in. I lean back in bed, relatively satisfied with her answer.

I want to tell her what I heard. I want to tell her that I appreciate her for what she said and everything she's done for me. But, when she smiles at me it doesn't quite reach her eyes, so I decide not to say anything. She breaks our eye contact to take another bite of pizza. I think she knows what I saw in her eyes. They always give her away, by turning a lighter shade of blue when she feels bad.

I want to know what she's thinking. Does she regret what she declared to her father? Is she considering doing as he says? Is she just sad that a wedge is between them again?

I don't know which one it is. I'm not positive I want to, so I'll just wait. Time will reveal all.

So I don't let her know just how much everything she's been doing means to me. I can't, because I'm no longer convinced she'll stick around. If she doesn't, I won't give her the satisfaction of knowing that she's been...my rock, my everything, through this. I don't tell her that her faith in me, inspired me to have more faith in myself.

I keep all of that to myself and just continue eating the great pepperoni pizza she's ordered for us.


	3. Monumental

Hey all. Thanks for reading/reviewing! Especially reviewing LOL. So, in this chapter, there's some obvious fast-forwarding. I didn't pin an exact date or anything, but let's say this is probably the end of June - one month after the injury and you all enjoy, let me know!

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><p>"Shit," I curse as the bowl falls from my hand and to the floor shattering into several large pieces and many small ones. I prop the crutch in my right hand against the wall and reach out for the broom and dustpan set. It was a great idea to buy this particular set because it's tall and no one has to hunch over to sweep stuff into the pan.<p>

Stephanie walks into the kitchen and lingers in the doorway. "Hunter, what-" she surveys the scene before her and rushes over to me. "Here, I'll do that."

"No," I snap out at her, feeling like an asshole when her eyes widen and get that sad look that tends to turn my insides to mush. "I want to do it." While I lowered my voice considerably, my tone was still ice cold. She presses her lips into a tight line and nods at me before going back to the living room.

Carefully, I grip the dustpan handle in the same hand that's holding the other crutch, while sweeping the shards of the broken bowl in. I'm pretty pleased with myself when I sweep the last piece in. Until I realize that there's no way I can empty the dustpan contents into the trashcan. It's impossible for me to push the lever that'll hold the trashcan open, balance myself on my good leg, while lifting and emptying the dustpan. I might be stubborn but I'm not crazy. And if I fall over, I'm going to be embarrassed and probably in pain. It's not worth the risk.

"Steph?" I call out. I hear her get up from the leather couch and a few seconds later she appears in the kitchen doorway.

Blue eyes trail from me, to the items in my hand, to the trashcan. She arches her eyebrow in my direction. She only does that when she's pissed, is being sarcastic or crafty or finds something ironic. I wonder which one it is. A slow smirk spreads across her lips. "Yes?"

Ah, so sarcasm and irony it is. I can do that too. "Some help would be nice." I wiggle the dustpan impatiently for emphasis.

"Oh?" She places her left hand on her hip and places her right hand on the kitchen counter, leaning against it with the most uninterested look she can manage. "Funny. Two minutes ago I wanted to help and you were having none of it."

I should tell her how hard this is for me. I should let her know that I view any physical task I'm able to complete as a huge accomplishment. That if I can do something by myself, I want to. I have to. It means so much to me to be able to do the littlest things. And I don't want to burden her more than absolutely necessary.

I want to...earn my keep around her. I don't want her to see me as weak and helpless. Each physical accomplishment makes me less so. She's a strong woman, but whenever she was unable to do something it didn't crush her totally. She'd just bat her eyelashes, smile sweetly and get me to do it for her. I know a part of her enjoyed that. But I can't do that for her right now and it burns me up so much that sometimes I can't stand it. And I know I'm being unfair, by snapping at her whenever she tries to help me. But damn it, I don't care if it takes me triple the time it would take her to do something - if I can manage to get it done, I will.

Because she'd enjoyed getting me to do things for her, she won't understand any of that. She can't; not when we have opposing views on having the help of our significant other. The futility of trying to make her understand frustrates me, so I snap again. "Are you going to fucking help me or not?"

Her eyes narrow and darken, the slightest bit. I know she wants to curse me out and leave me to fend for myself. But, she's too nice for that. She's also too much of a neat freak to leave the mess. "Well since you asked so _nicely_," she throws her left arm up in the air in defeat and crosses over to my side of the kitchen. She gives me what I would call a death glare and snatches the dustpan handle from me. "Asshole," she mutters under her breath, before turning away from me.

I stand there and watch her dump the remains of the bowl into the trashcan effortlessly. I try not to seethe with bitterness when she opens the cabinet and pulls down another bowl for me. She adds cereal, milk and a spoon to the bowl in less than a minute. Part of me resents her speediness. The other part loves that she knows me so well. Wordlessly, she sits the bowl on the kitchen table and pulls a chair out for me.

"Thanks," I mumble, hobbling over to my snack. She continues to stand, watching me as I get situated at the table.

With a loud sigh, she sits down across from me. I don't look up at her, I just eat my cereal.

"I know this is difficult for you, Hunter."

Rudely, I snort. Difficult is just the tip of the iceberg for how I feel.

Stephanie ignores my sound effects and continues. "You have to ask me for help when you need it. You're supposed to be taking it easy so you can get into rehab that much quicker. So let me do the small stuff."

Nothing is small to me anymore. Every single thing that I can or can't do seems monumental these days. Can't she see that? I look up at her and my annoyance disappears. I've hurt her. It's written all over her face. It's written in her body language; she runs a hand through her hair and breaks our eye contact by looking off to the side. Now she's biting down on her bottom lip. For the love of God, she's about to cry. And I'm too slow on the crutches to escape the kitchen before she starts.

I swallow the lump in my throat and place down my spoon to take her hand and squeeze it briefly. I don't apologize, because my feelings haven't changed. I don't want her damn help unless it's absolutely necessary. If I say sorry, she might take that as an invitation to try to help more often. And all that will do is piss me off again. "Ok, I'll try." I release her hand and go back to eating my cereal.

We sit across from each other in almost total silence. The only sounds are my eating and the low hum of the refrigerator. At least a full two minutes have passed.

I focus on what's in my bowl. I refuse to meet her gaze, I don't want to watch her struggle with her emotions. I don't want to feel sorry for her. Not when I'm too busy feeling sorry for myself.

"We need to talk."

I freeze. Conversations that start with those four words almost never turn out well. Maybe she's had enough of me rejecting her attempts to make my life easier. Maybe she's had enough of me distancing myself and getting unnecessarily frustrated and angry with her. The gap between us has just grown wider and wider since Vince's visit last month. I know she hasn't spoken to him since then. She was upset that her father continued to endorse the guy who had talked trash about her injured husband. "About?"

She waits a beat. "ECW."

I'm too stunned to speak at first. When we left the WWF, Shane's WCW was causing havoc. And I've heard whispers that ECW is having financial trouble. I polish off the rest of my cereal and give her my full attention. I cross my arms in front of me and lean them onto the table. "Shoot."

Stephanie mirrors my posture. "What do you think about buying them out and merging with WCW?"

"Why would we do that?"

A maniacal gleam appears in her eyes and her smile is so huge that the dimples in her cheeks make an appearance. "If those two companies aligned, we could take out the WWF." She punches her hand excitedly. "We could run my father right out of business."

I shrug at her. "Steph, it's your money. Do what you want with it."

She shakes her head and looks mildly insulted. "We're married. It's _our _money. And there is a possibility this will fail, obviously. If that happens I'll be out of a job and we'll be out of millions of dollars. So I want your opinion."

I don't care. I really, seriously don't care about this right now. First of all, I can't be there to help kick the WWF's...or more so Vince's ass. Second of all, if this plan fails, our financial security is directly linked with me not only recovering, but returning to the ring exactly as I was before the injury. Third of all, we've been living in Birmingham ever since I was released from the hospital. My rehab is going to be here, 7 days a week. If I let her do this, she'll have to return to traveling extensively. We'll hardly ever see each other.

But, I can't deny her this. I'm not allowing her to do me any good here and I know that it's hurting her. I also know that soon she'll get antsy and restless. I can't be selfish enough to tell her to stay here for the next 7 months, with the conditions that she's willing to sit still on the couch quietly and be physically useless.

I clear my throat and jab my index finger on the table so that she understands how serious I am. That I will not budge on this requirement."We're keeping our liquid cash, Steph. If this fails, we'll need it."

Intrigued, her eyebrows raise. "How will we finance the purchase, then?"

"Sell our WWF stocks," is my cool reply.

"But," she begins, before I cut her off.

"Stocks rise and fall daily," I point out. "Right now, they're worth a hell of a lot so selling is a good idea. Sell them directly to someone who hates Vince and they'll pay more than the market price most likely. If this is successful, you, Shane and I will have control of the WWF anyway. If you fail, it's not like your father or mother will allow you any input anyway. They'll fire you immediately. But, the old man doesn't have to know that I know about this. That way, when I return we'll still have that income. And while I'm recovering we'll still have some money."

"That's not a bad point. And it's funny that you suggest we sell to someone who hates my father. Shane sold his stocks to Ric Flair."

I feel my eyes widen with surprise. Wow, so the Nature Boy owns a piece of WWF. "Well, there's your buyer," I tell her.

Stephanie smiles and nods at me. Letting her sell our stocks is quite possibly the single worst idea I have ever had. But, I guess it is our best chance to drive the old man out of business. And if I'm honest with myself, I'm glad that she's so pissed off at him that she wants to do this. It means she won't be listening to his advice on leaving me high and dry.


	4. We'll be okay

So, this is a relatively uneventful, happy chapter. Lol. I figured I had to throw in some fluff...there had to be some good days during the 8 months, right? As far as the purchase prices of the companies - found that online, of course. The stock prices I totally made up...but it never made sense to me WHY the board of directors were referenced during the Vince/Flair angle, if the ownership was supposedly 50/50. Hee! Hope you all enjoy the sappiness and love...the next chapter is evil! Dldb and Jess, thanks for reviewing (patience, Jess, patience, we'll get to what happened to Steph, LOL).

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><p>I sit on the couch listening to Stephanie make her calls. I've never really had the opportunity to see the <em>true <em>business side of her. I mean, during our era, that was more so the manipulative and powerful side of her. And while I'm sure that what's she's planning with her brother qualifies as both, it's different somehow. Right now, she's talking numbers. She's talking deals. She's talking buyouts. She's talking...stocks. It's a whole new side of her. If I were the one on the other side of her line, I would imagine that she was in some corporate, high-rise office, swiveling around in a leather chair. I'm...fascinated by these conversations.

I hear her make her pleasantries and end the call. I poke my head over the couch to look at her. "What's the word?"

Stephanie smiles and gets up from the kitchen table, coming over to sit beside me on the leather couch. She adjusts her body so that she's facing me.

"Well, it's like this," She begins to explain. "Technically, WWF ownership isn't split among me, Shane, my mother and father in twenty-five percent increments."

I look at her with a puzzled frown. "But that's not what Vince has always said."

"I know. But, the board of directors have to own a piece of the pie. As do some of the companies who help promote and operate the WWF. Then in 1999, the company became publicly traded. In total, we hold sixty percent of the stocks. Of that, the split is equal. Except for the fact that Shane and I each gave our spouses five percent of what we had."

I reach over and flick a lock of her hair over her shoulder for her. "And here, I'd always thought you'd cheated me."

Her rich, unabashed laughter melts away some of the coldness I've been feeling lately. She composes herself and continues. "We're...the faces of the WWF, if you will. The board never makes an appearance they only care that we make them money. So in terms of daily operation, we own it."

The calculations in my head take virtually no time. "So Ric Flair will really only own thirty percent once we sell?"

She nods. "Basically. Though, operationally speaking it's fifty."

Hmm. You learn something new, every day. I suppose I didn't know these things because I never asked. "How much is ECW selling for?"

Stephanie grins and her eyes twinkle mischievously. "Actually, Heyman filed for bankruptcy already. He's in such deep shit that he still owes some of the roster money. We can dig them out for much less than I'd thought."

I arch my brow in intrigue. "How much?"

"$1.4 million."

I can't help myself. I start laughing. ECW is the third largest wrestling company and _that's _all their assets are worth? How the mighty have fallen. And here I thought we would have to wipe our accounts out and risk going to the poor house to pull this off. "How much was WCW?"

"Just over $4 million." My eyes flicker and my lip twitches in amusement, so Stephanie smirks at me. "Buying the companies wasn't the hard or risky part, Hunter. The problem is going to be paying the talent, the referees and the announcers while we technically don't have an income. And we have to help Shane out because his company cost him four times more than ours _and _the WCW roster is bigger. Not to mention we're going to have to share arena and production costs with Vince."

I nod reassuringly and get serious. "How much is Flair offering?"

She shrugs. "Same thing he offered Shane. $75 million."

"Is that going to be enough? Were you and Shane planning to offer contracts?"

"It'll be enough, with extra left over for WWF defectors. But, no contracts, because at some point there's gonna have to be a winner-take-all kind of situation. If we lose, we don't want to be obligated to continue to pay large sums of money to people who don't actually work for us."

With an understanding nod, I tell her, "Sounds like you just need to just make things official."

Stephanie sighs and reaches out grip my chin lightly. "Pretty much. But before we do this, I need to know that you're okay with it."

"Meaning?"

She licks her lips while she tries to compose her explanation. "I need to know that _we're _going to be okay. You'll mostly be here doing rehab. I'll have to travel," she says point blank.

"I won't cheat on you," I tell her fiercely.

A head shake and a smile are her response. "That's good to know and I wouldn't dream of cheating on you either. But, that's not what I was asking."

I stare at her patiently, waiting for her to word her thoughts. Whatever she has to say, it's obviously something that's really bothering her.

"I need to know that you won't," she averts her eyes downward briefly. "You know, resent me for not being here with you every day during your rehab. That our relationship won't go straight to hell because you secretly feel like I'm abandoning you."

A low chuckle escapes me. While I won't resent her and don't feel like she's abandoning me, I'm ridiculously pleased that she cares enough to ask. That our relationship is her number one priority. I have no doubt that if I asked her to stay, she would. That, alone, speaks volumes for how much she loves me. Now, I have to show her that I have enough faith in us to let her do this. "Steph, I know, at times during this injury I've been a pain to deal with. I think the occasional separation might be more healthy for us than damaging."

Stephanie nods slowly, but I can see the reluctance in her eyes. "And if it's the opposite?"

I shrug at her. I seriously don't know what to tell her. I can't potentially lie to her and tell her that everything is going to be fine and dandy. I'm sure it won't be. There's going to be rough times. There's going to be times that I miss her so much that I _will _be bitter that she isn't readily available. I'm going to be a little envious that she gets to interact with the wrestling world and travel, while I stay locked up here in Birmingham for the next 6 months, getting my quad healthy again.

Then again, the time that we do spend together will be special because it's limited. And _that's _what I'm banking on when I tell her that this might be healthy for us. I think that if I force her to stay here and continue taking my frustration out on her it'll be her that resents me. Rightfully so.

I also can't pass up the opportunity to see the look on Vince's face when he realizes what his only children are trying to do to him. That, alone is almost enough motivation for me to try to work through what could prove to be a difficult situation with Steph.

I grab the hand that is still touching my chin and intertwine her fingers with mine. I lean down and give her an open mouth kiss, briefly brushing her tongue with mine before pulling away. "I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," is my honest answer.

And judging by her smile, that reply seems to satisfy her.

July 27, 2001

Things have been going relatively smoothly. The sale of our stocks and purchase of ECW went off without a hitch. And when Stephanie revealed herself as the new owner on live television, the expression on Vince's face was priceless, just like I knew it would be. It was a combination of shock, hurt and fear. If I were Vince, I'd probably be afraid, too. His children are equally as bad as him when it comes to being conniving and deceiving. And the old man is sort of outnumbered, because Linda is nowhere near as bad as them.

A short while later, for reasons I still don't quite understand, Steph approached me with the idea of getting implants. Despite my insistence that she was beautiful the way she was, she got them anyway. A big part of her reasoning had been that she had lost a lot of weight recently and didn't like that it made her chest smaller. Whatever. I can't tell her what to do. Well I _could _but what's the point? She's as stubborn as I am, so she would be unlikely to listen.

Stone Cold Steve Austin had been acting really strange and...nice to people. He was even nice to Vince. It didn't seem like he was going to be a problem for the Alliance because he had been behaving very peacefully. Then, one night he flipped his lid and gave Stone Cold Stunners to damn near the entire roster. At that point, I was almost ready to try to fight on the busted leg. It would be five of the top WWF stars versus three top Alliance members and two mid-carders. I thought we were screwed. The match itself had nothing tangible on the line – just credibility. In a business like this, credibility sometimes means more.

But then the unthinkable happened. Stone Cold defected to the Alliance and caused the WWF to lose the big match at Invasion. I was stunned. Stephanie and Shane were stunned, though they did a good job on television of pretending that they weren't. It turned out that Paul Heyman had convinced the Rattlesnake that the WWF wasn't valuing him as they should be. Go figure.

I hear a small clicking noise before I look up to see the door of my hotel room open. I recognize the head of brunette hair as Stephanie's as she pokes her head in cautiously and looks towards the living room.

"Hello?" She calls loudly, finally walking in, with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and rolling her suitcase behind her.

I walk out of the kitchen. "What are you doing here already?" I ask with a smile while making my way over to take her duffel from her.

"I was able to grab a red eye flight instead," she admits with a clever smile before pushing her suitcase into a nearby closet.

I put the duffel in the closet next to her suitcase. I straighten up and brush my hand down her arm. "I would've picked you up, Steph," I say seriously. I'm off the crutches and walking pretty well on my own. The only time I need the pain meds is when I push myself too hard in rehab. I don't like that she's wandering about alone. I especially don't like it because anything could have happened to her and I wouldn't have had a clue until I tried to pick her up from the airport, hours from now.

"Yeah, but then it wouldn't be called a surprise now would it?" She grins before wrapping her arms around my neck. "So, surprise." She pulls me down to her height and presses her lips against mine.

She breaks our kiss and pulls back to reach inside her leather jacket. She produces a black box and hands it to me. "Happy birthday, honey."

I feel sort of like a giddy school boy when I open the box to find a diamond encrusted Rolex. I give her an impressed whistle while I look at the watch from every angle. "HHH and SMH Forever" is the inscription on the underside of the watch. God, I love her. "This is awesome, Steph," I say sincerely. "Thanks, baby." I give her a peck on the cheek before fastening the watch to my wrist.

"Looks good on you," she comments, placing a hand on my chest.

I grab her hand and trace small circles into her palm. "Know what looks even better on me?"

Her brow furrows in legitimate confusion. "What?"

I beam at her and wrap an arm around her waist. "You," is my reply before I capture her lips with mine. Stephanie responds by placing one arm around my neck, using her other hand to snake up under my shirt and grip my back.

Our kiss deepens when she slightly parts her lips and I take her up on the invitation. Her desire beginning to mirror – or possibly even outweigh mine, she wraps one of her long legs around my waist. I secure a hand under her thigh and move to position her other leg around my waist. We're pretty much experts at this, I would say, so our kiss does not waver in the slightest while we do that.

Unable to help myself, I groan into her mouth lowly before breaking our embrace. I immediately trail kisses along her jaw line, to her earlobe and down to her neck. I smile against her skin, when she can't help but moan when I find her weak spot. My legs move of their own accord and carry us into the master bedroom, with my lips and tongue never leaving her neck.

I sit Stephanie on the edge of the bed, pull back and quickly pull my shirt off and toss it to the floor carelessly. "Birthday sex, birthday sex," I hum, doing an amusing, quick happy dance.

She laughs out loud, reaches up and pulls me down to the bed, on top of her. I don't quite manage to hold back the guttural moan when she nips at my earlobe.

Nope, occasional separation is no problem at all.


	5. The Cerebral Chump

I'm toying with the idea of jumping to right before her pregnancy announcement in Ch. 7...and just summarizing all that goes down (such as the Alliance losing) in the beginning of the chapter. I'm sure everyone's going crazy wondering what happens to Stephanie and I think that with this chapter and prior ones, I've described how they got so distant from each other during the injury. Hope you all enjoy this, let me know!

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><p>Sunday pay per views have been added to the list apparently. But, almost every Monday and Thursday I sit here in the living room of my hotel watching Stephanie flirt with some Alliance member on screen. It's not that I think she's screwing around on me. She isn't. In fact, because I'm not physically there to be a part of everything she calls to update me several times a day. And that tends to include her retelling the story of how she used her irresistible charm to get one of our idiot wrestlers to risk bodily harm by being her personal assassin.<p>

So, hours before it airs on television, I usually know that it's coming. I'm usually prepared. But all of my knowledge and grounding don't help me much. Not when I see the damn gleam in the other man's eyes. They always think they're really going to get a shot at her. Of course they won't and logically I know that but it pisses me off that she's so good at convincing them to believe the illusion that she's into them. Rumors are spreading backstage. Even though I haven't been to an event in four months, some of my closer coworkers keep me in the loop. They know that Steph hasn't done anything, too. But they still hear the whispers, the allegations. People who don't know the truth feel sorry for me.

That makes me angry, too. When I return I'm going to get these sympathetic "It's a shame your wife screwed the entire Alliance while you were out with an injury" looks. I don't want or need their pity, because she hasn't done anything even remotely close to that. But what she has unknowingly done, is cause people to see me as a sucker. I'm pegged as the loving husband who has no idea that his darling wife isn't so darling.

I want to demand that she rule the Alliance with an iron fist rather than with her eyes, smile, and seductive tosses of her hair. But I don't. In her mind, if she isn't doing anything wrong and is also letting me know what she's up to every step of the way, everything is all right. And maybe it should be. But it isn't.

The water bottle in my hand makes cracking noises as my grip tightens. Tonight is the Unforgiven pay per view, so everything is live. I didn't have a heads up as to what I was about to see. Stephanie's flirting with Rob Van Dam. I already didn't like his nonchalant, yet arrogant attitude. And now I have to sit here while Stephanie insinuates that she's going to do sexual favors for him. I know she isn't.

I _know _that. But, people will think that she did. The Alliance must think that she makes good on these innuendos otherwise they wouldn't so readily do her bidding. Or, maybe they would since she's one of the bosses and is known for her viciousness when she doesn't get her way. Still, a lot of WWF stars must think she's being literal and not simply playing a game with everyone, because word is spreading that she's a slut. Although, fans and wrestlers alike, have called her that ever since Steph and I got married.

There's a popping sound and most of the water trickles down my hand, wrist and arm. A few specks managed to land on my face somehow and I use my dry hand to wipe it off. But, I don't get up yet. I sit and wait for her segment with RVD to end. When it's done, I just mutter angrily and go into the kitchen to clean up.

Stephanie's been making me so upset and I haven't talked with her about why. That's a pattern that started soon after my surgery. I know that it's irrational to blame her for repeating the same irritating behavior, when I haven't even disclosed what exactly it is that's pissing me off.

And if I'm going to be honest, it makes me mad that I would need to explicitly tell her why I'm angry. Aren't women supposed to have a sixth sense about stuff like this? They're supposed to overanalyze! The pitch of my voice should be divided by my hand gestures and multiplied by how much I narrow my eyes. That's how she should be figuring out what's setting me off – using some strange, complex, womanly equation. I shouldn't have to outright tell her why I'm mad, she's supposed to know me well enough or pick up on the clues fast enough to make the right conclusion.

It might be an immature way to think about it, but that's how I feel.

I grab another bottle of water from the refrigerator and twist the top off. When I enter the living room again, the camera cuts to Stephanie walking down the hallway. I tilt the bottle back and take a few gulps of water. The cool liquid refreshes my throat, which has gone dry in accordance with my anger.

Through RVD's dressing room door she promises that if he beats her nemesis Chris Jericho, he will have a pleasurable experience in the Alliance. My lips press into a tight line and my free hand clenches into a fist. Why does she have to say shit like that? I very seriously doubt any of the wrestlers _want _to lose their matches. They don't need the extra and might I add _false _motivation from her.

Her eyes widen when Chris Jericho opens the dressing room door. When he insults her, I don't have it in me to feel bad for her. She brought this on herself by not considering how her behavior looks to the world.

Prior to this I never gave a crap what people thought about me as a person. But I've always cared what they thought of Stephanie and I found myself in numerous fights to defend her honor. A part of that was because she was receiving all that flack as a direct result of being with me. My past with women was...colorful. So people assumed that in order to attract and hold my attention she must have been just as colorful. Of course, that wasn't and still isn't true, but I felt guilty that my history was reflecting badly on my wife. I became obsessed with destroying anyone who slandered her name.

Now, things have changed. Stephanie's conduct – despite the fact she isn't actually committing the offenses – is causing people to call her names. Worse, it's causing people to think she's pulling the wool over my eyes. Generally speaking, I don't care what anyone except Stephanie thinks of me as long as I'm respected. I've never been referred to as a sap or a fool before now and must admit that I don't like it one bit.

My nickname is the Cerebral Assassin and I am livid that because of Stephanie I'm going to be called the Cerebral Chump. As if that wasn't maddening enough, I have to deal with the fact that I can't bring myself to ask her to knock it off.

She's being open about what she is and isn't doing. I pretend that I'm cool with it. It isn't until I actually see her use her sex appeal to get her way that I want to break the nearest object. And I didn't resent her until I found out about all of the rumors.

It makes no sense that a man like me – a relatively secure, don't give a damn what anyone thinks kind of man – would be so deeply affected by these events. So, I don't plan on telling her anything. She'd probably just laugh it off and tell me I'm being ridiculous.

I watch the rest of the show, trying not to let my irritation cloud my judgment of how the matches went. I'm grateful that RVD saved my wife from getting hit in the head with a steel chair by Chris Jericho. But I'm not pleased that she put herself in harm's way in the first place. As soon as Stephanie disappears up the ramp, my cell phone starts to ring. I put my water bottle down on the coffee table and reach over to retrieve the phone.

I look at the caller ID and answer with, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she confirms. "Yeah I'm fine. I just wanted to call you because I know you were watching that."

I lick my bottom lip and struggle to contain my temper. "I was. You shouldn't have gotten involved Stephanie."

I hear her sigh on the other line. "I just...I hate Chris Jericho so much. I wanted to make sure he paid for the awful things he's been saying about me."

"Well maybe if you hadn't gotten implants that you just _have _to showcase on live television and didn't hint at sexual relations to get the Alliance to listen to you, no one would bother you." Crap. I hadn't meant to say that. It's Stephanie's 25th birthday tomorrow and even though I'm furious with her I don't want to ruin her day. She's booked a flight to Alabama right after Raw.

For a moment there's silence and then I hear a door slam. She must be back in her dressing room. "It's been pretty damn effective, Hunter. And you weren't complaining about the implants when I got them."

"I didn't realize you planned to wag them in other men's faces to get your way." Dear God, I should just quit while I'm ahead. I didn't want to have this discussion with her. And if I did, I would have brought it up more tactfully than this.

Stephanie sucks in a breath. "What exactly are you trying to tell me, Hunter? Huh? I've been totally upfront with you and you haven't expressed any problem with it."

"That was then. This is now." I rub my face with my hand wearily. Way to go on consistency, Hunter.

"What," she sighs softly and clears her throat. "What is happening to us?"

I close my eyes and run a hand through my hair. That's a damn good question. It seems like as soon as I overcome one issue with her, another pops in immediately to take its place. I hate this. I hate feeling so far away from her. I hate hurting her. But lo and behold both of those things are happening on a regular basis. "I don't know, Steph. But I do know that I want you to tone the sexuality down."

"Fine," she acquiesces. "You know, all you had to do was ask."

"I didn't think I should have to ask _my _wife to reserve her affections only for me." And there I go again. She probably thinks I want to beat her over the head, drag her to my room, tie her up and keep her locked up with me forever. Very modern way to treat a spouse, you know.

"You knew what I was up to every step of the way, Hunter. You knew none of it meant anything."

"Maybe not to you," I add and immediately wince. Why can't I just keep my damn mouth shut? The words just keep tumbling out of my mouth like a freaking rockslide.

"Baby, if," she starts.

I interrupt her. "Forget it, we're not having this conversation." I do believe I've made a fool of myself quite enough for one night. Until I have something rational to say and can do so without the temper, I'm keeping a lid on it.

"I think we have to," she insists.

"Well then I hope you enjoy talking to yourself," I tell her coldly. "I'm not talking about this."

"Why not? It's obviously been bothering you for a while and you haven't said anything until now. I mean, what's gonna happen when I show up Tuesday morning if there's still this tension between us?"

"Maybe you shouldn't come."

Silence is her reply. I didn't mean what I said. Things are screwed up between us again but I still love her. It's just that being out of action is causing me more problems than I anticipated it would. I open my mouth, prepared to speak but before I get anything out, I hear the click. She hung up on me.

My fingers are shaking the slightest bit when I attempt to call her back. I can't lose her. Not now and not like this. Not ever, if I can help it. I feel panicky when my call goes directly to her voicemail. I try again, just for good measure. It goes straight to voicemail again. There's no doubt in my mind that she's turned her phone off.

"Stephanie, we need to talk. Call me back," I stop, when I realize how commanding I sound. I pause and take a breath. "I didn't mean it," is my half-assed attempt to say I'm sorry. "Ok?" I ask feebly before hanging up. I sit down on the couch and bury my head in my hands. Worst. Attempt. To. Apologize. Ever.

The pay per view ends and she still hasn't called me back. I decide to give her time to settle down, get back to her hotel and relax. It's now been two hours since I made that awful comment to her. My impatience wins and I find myself calling her again. The line rings once, abruptly cuts off during the second ring and goes to voicemail. She knew I was calling and she pressed ignore. I don't leave another message, I simply hang up.

This is bad. Really bad. But, I'm already formulating a plan to fix it.


	6. Who's Winning?

Hey guys! I decided to get this out since I had the second half written anyway. I'm a little out of it, being that I'm in my FINAL WEEK of undergrad, WHEE! When I do ch. 7, we will have jumped a couple of months ahead. For now, I'm going to focus on this story, since I know exactly where it's going and where it will end. Well, I know that with all my stories but since this one is short, it's an easier journey to get there, LOL. So I'll be actively working on finishing this, getting the last chapter or two of DI out b/c it BUGS ME that it's unfinished LOL...followed by updating WAN, Rescue Me and Entwined. As always, the reviews are SO, SO appreciated!

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><p>I stand outside the hotel door, fidgeting nervously. Stephanie's older brother Shane isn't very pleased with me right now. I can't really blame him; what I said to his sister was cruel. However, after convincing him that I would fix this latest mess, he informed me of what Stephanie would be up to today.<p>

Apparently, she was supposed to do lunch with Shane and the rest of the Alliance. But, Stephanie had called to tell him she didn't feel up to it. I know that that's probably my fault.

I take a deep, audible breath and raise my fist, letting it rap against the door.

"Go away, Shane" is the muffled response from inside.

I knock again.

"I told you I'm not in the mood for company," she says agitatedly.

I knock once more and get anxious when I hear the shuffle of covers and her angry footsteps approaching the door. I lick my dry lips and swallow harshly. I have...no damn clue what to say to her. I hadn't thought that far ahead, I'd simply hopped on the first flight I could after my rehab session.

But, I'm out of time. I can hear her unlocking the door.

"I said I'm-" she trails off as her eyes go wide and her gaze connects with mine. "Hunter."

"Hi," I give her a small, timid smile. She doesn't exactly look pleased to see me, but at least she hasn't slammed the door in my face.

Stephanie quickly composes herself and screws on an indifferent look, before leaning casually against the doorway. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to apologize in person for what I said last night."

She shrugs. "Okay."

"And, give you your birthday present...you know, on your actual birthday." I hand her a long, rectangular box.

There's a flicker of emotion in her eyes when she takes the box from me. I watch her as she looks down while she fingers the silk ribbon tying the box, curiously. "Thanks." She looks back up at me and the disinterested face is there again. "Is that all?"

Damn her! Damn her for making this so hard on me. Does she have any idea how much of a wreck I've been for the past 16 hours? Does she know I could hardly get to sleep and that when I did it was restless and shitty? Does she know that I hardly managed to eat or drink anything because my stupid nerves wouldn't let my hands stop trembling at the thought of losing her? Clearly not, or she wouldn't be making this so difficult.

My frustration is threatening to spill over, but so far I'm doing a good job of keeping a lid on it. I know how important this conversation is. "No, that's not all. I wanted to take you to lunch."

"Why? So you can accuse me of whoring myself to our wrestlers some more? Or tell me that you don't want me around? No, thanks! I get the picture, Hunter." She straightens her posture and stops leaning on the doorway. Quickly, she steps to the side and grabs the door, preparing to close it.

For a second, I consider letting her do it. Maybe she just needs time to cool down her temper. But before, the door obscures her face, I see that the anger is gone and she just looks...sad. I can work with that. I place my hand against the door, halting its movement. I lightly push back against the force that Stephanie is trying to use to shut the door. It's almost effortless for me. If my head wasn't all over the place, I would be amused that she's seriously trying, with everything she has to overpower me.

I step around the door and into her hotel room before dropping my duffel bag on the floor. She gives up, shuts the door behind us and glares at me.

My head cocks slightly to one side and I smirk. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks," she says between her teeth.

I've had enough of this. She's like an angry kitten or something. So vulnerable, but trying to put on a poker face to fool the nearby predator into thinking she's untouchable. But she isn't my prey. I didn't come here to hurt her. Well...I didn't come here to hurt her any more than I already have. I walk over to her and before she can protest, I wrap my arms around her as tightly as I can without causing her pain.

Initially, her fists beat into my sides as she futilely tries to get me to let her go. The intensity weakens with each hit. Not because she's tired, but because she starts sobbing into my chest.

She unclenches her fists and uses her hands to grip my back instead. "How could you say that to me?" I'm pretty sure that's what she just asked. Or at least something similar to that. It's a little hard to tell, with her voice being muffled by my shirt. "That you didn't want me around."

"I didn't mean it, baby. I'm sorry...and I always want you around. I'm here now. Ok?"

Against my chest, she nods in agreement. "You're such an asshole sometimes."

I can't help but chuckle a little, which earns me a smack to my lower back. "I'm sorry for that, too. But, you love me anyway." Sue me. I know that the fact that she loves me doesn't justify or excuse the things I say and do sometimes. But, come on! She knew exactly who I was when we got together. I try to do better...but sometimes I just revert back to that – I don't know, less nice guy.

Stephanie unburies her head, sniffles and looks up at me. A soft sigh escapes before she admits, "Yeah. Yeah I do."

I wipe the remaining tears from her cheeks, silently cursing myself for having put them there in the first place. Sometimes, I completely suck at the whole husband thing. But other times, I get it soright and we're so on the same page that it feels like I was born to love this one woman.

That's what I think about when the tears stop entirely and she smiles at me.

End of October

"Kurt Angle wants to jump ship."

My head shakes, of its own volition. "Excuse me?"

Stephanie sighs and pushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I said that Kurt-"

I grit my teeth. "I heard you!"

"Don't yell at me!"

"No," I say, with my teeth still gritted.

Her brow crinkles in confusion. "No, you won't stop yelling?" She asks in astonishment.

I shake my head. But, I also lower my voice. She's right; I shouldn't be shouting at her. "No. As is Kurt will notbe joining the Alliance."

"Hunter, he's a tremendous asset. We could really use him."

My voice raises an octave or two, yet again. "You could use him like I could use a hole in my damn head, Steph!"

"He's a phenomenal wrestler. This could be the difference between winning or losing this thing."

Her eyes are practically pleading. This means a lot to her. Winning, I mean. Not just because some of our money is tied up into it. But, because this was her way of getting back at her father. She and her brother outwitted him, for sure. But what was it all worth if they lost when it really mattered? It was like getting an honorable mention at the race. It was nice that you came close, but you still weren't a winner. That's what they would be, if they lost: the people that _almost _beat Vince McMahon. I get that. But, if Kurt Angle is supposed to be the difference maker...well, then a difference just wasn't _meant _to be made. "You don't need him."

"You're right, _we _don't." She pauses and looks at me sternly, making sure I get her point. It's always about the 'we' with her when it comes to this Alliance thing. I mean, yes she keeps me in the loop and consults me on things but I'm not physically present for the day to day stuff. And really I can't be, since we're pretending that I know nothing about this total mutiny, in case it goes bad. I feel like this is her and Shane's deal and I'm just along for the ride. "But I'm all for taking every advantage the Alliance can get," she finishes.

I chuckle in amusement. She doesn't get it. I don't give a good damn how much having an athlete the caliber of Kurt Angle could help. I would never willingly let that man within five feet of Stephanie. He caused way too many problems in our marriage. Problems that Steph was completely blind to, because he was so good at being her shoulder to cry on.

And Kurt did all that damage when I was still uninjured and present. I refuse to allow him to be working closely with my wife when I'm not there to see exactly what the little jerk is up to.

I shrug and repeat myself. "No."

Stephanie sighs again and twists her fingers together nervously. "I wasn't asking you, Hunter. I was...informing you."

My cheek twitches in irritation. If she wants to play it this way, I'm up for it. Whatever it takes, to make sure Angle gets nowhere near her. "As part owner of the Alliance, I forbid this," is my command. "Do you hear me, Stephanie?" I point a finger directly in her face. "Let him stay right where he is. I mean it."

Her chest heaves the slightest bit and I can practically hear her grinding her teeth. "I hear you," she acknowledges. "Now hear me. I've tolerated your grumpiness and mood swings for months now. And I never complained, I just tried to understand what you were going through. I fly back here," she gestures to the room we're in, "to this _same _hotel twice a week to see you. Just so you can ignore me or yell at me. You have rehab seven days a week," she points out with a nod. "I get that. I really do. But rehab is two hours a day, Hunter. I'm busting my ass trying to make the Alliance work and keep our marriage intact. I have to travel with them, travel back to see you, travel someplace else with them, then back to you only to be subject to your misplaced anger." She takes a deep breath. "That isn't fair and you know it. You know that if you were determined enough you would come to me occasionally. But you don't. The only time you made that effort was on my birthday...and that was only because _you _fucked up."

I can't help it. I hang my head a little because she's...completely right. I've been able to walk without the crutches for nearly three months now. I could have traveled to see her every now and then. Hell, going to see her once every two weeks wouldn't have been unreasonable. It still wouldn't be. Why can't she ask for that instead? I'll gladly give it to her. "And naturally, the fact that I've been...preoccupied means that I should let that home-wrecker near you?"

"It's just business."

Until it becomes personal. For me, it already is. I don't want that bastard involved with us in any way, shape or form. I can't deny that I'm pissed off Stephanie's gone and guilt tripped me to the point where I'm going to feel like an asshole for denying her anything that she wants. I just wish that Kurt Angle's defection wasn't currently at the top of her want list. "Just so you know, I don't like or trust that little creep. If I see anything," I demand, "and I do mean anything too unprofessional going on, you're going to end your allegiance with him."

I don't understand her sly smile until she speaks. "Given your bias, you might have to define the word unprofessional for me."

My eyes widen a little at her audacity. Is she specifically trying to prolong this marital spat? "Oh you'll know. You bet your ass, you'll know."

I sit down on the leather couch, watching Stephanie as she walks right past me to the loveseat. She plops down in a huff, crossing her arms across her chest before shooting an angry look in my direction briefly.

To be honest, I don't think anybody really won that round.


	7. How Much Things Can Change

After this chapter, the story is mostly over. It'll probably end at chapter 9. If I can stretch it to 10, I will. But, basically, the biggest part of the story is what actually happened to Steph to land Hunter in jail. So in this chapter, we've jumped ahead (by request, I might add, LOL) by about 3 months. We all know what happened, so I didn't spend a huge amount of time summarizing. Just added some details on what went on behind the scenes. The bulk of this chapter is dedicated to what happens afterwards...and you can tell where the storyline ends and my imagination begins. Don't want to give it away, you guys will see soon! I hope you all enjoy this, that I do the scene justice and that the few chapters worth of wait was worth it...let me know!

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><p>I make my way backstage, ignoring the whining, crying apologies of my wife. She's cost me a match against Booker T because she wouldn't stay the hell backstage like I told her to.<p>

Things have been going downhill for so long that it's becoming hard to remember why we're together in the first place. But, then there's one or two weeks of pure bliss and it jogs my memory. At least that's how it used to be. The closer my return got, the farther apart Stephanie and I grew.

And I know exactly why. There have been a lot of...whispers and talk surrounding my return. People have been saying that I would never have been so successful in my career if it wasn't for the influence and control that being married to Stephanie McMahon gave me. She was part-owner and heir of the WWF...that made her very powerful and very wealthy. But, she sold her stocks in an attempt to run her father out of business. So she was no longer an owner. She turned her back on her father. She was no longer an heir. And she told the world she had used all of her money to buy ECW. That's a total, complete lie. She didn't even use half of the money that the sale of her stocks gave her. But, they don't know that. So, in their eyes, she's poverty-stricken, too.

The boys in the back think that...I'll be absolutely nothing now that Stephanie has no authority. And they're wrong. I had already been on top of the proverbial mountain long before we got married. People seem to forget that.

But, I feel that it's necessary to remind the whole world that I _can _be successful without her. I need to show them that I will be.

Stephanie won't let me. The very first live event after I returned, she went out to the ring taking credit for my success. Then she told everyone that I was basically her personal assassin – that she pointed her finger at the target and I destroyed on her behalf. God, that pissed me off to no end.

All of that is fairly recent. Things have more or less been a rollercoaster ride ever since I got injured last spring. There was just one random problem after the other and it was compounded by the additional drama that Steph's involvement in ECW created.

We've never been all that great at communication. Part of it is Stephanie's inability to tell me what she's feeling rationally. It always has to come from some emotional perspective that I usually don't attempt to understand. At least not beyond the point of just making her feel better at that moment. The other part is my tendency to think that it's better to bottle my feelings up, if I can't make them make logical sense.

However, ever since the Alliance lost at Survivor Series, there's been more bad days than good. It started with the fact that when Stephanie showed up, she expected me to console her. I had simply stared at her and reminded her that I warned her that trusting Kurt Angle was a bad idea. I refrained from outright saying, "I told you so" because I didn't actually warn her about that aspect. I didn't trust Kurt simply because I thought he would make a move on Steph. I had no idea that he would betray their entire locker room and ensure that Team WWF won. I was as shocked as she was. Until I thought about it in depth. Any man who would purposely pursue a married woman and try to screw up her marriage with bullshit schemes and tactics...wasn't one that anyone should trust, in any capacity.

She hated that I was right. Abhorred the fact that we'd had a gigantic fight about Kurt's defection and then hardly spoken to each other in the days following. I guess she kind of felt that all the drama his defection caused was pointless and stupid. And if that's the case, she's absolutely right.

When she was officially out of a job, she moped and sulked around the hotel, mostly because she was bored out of her mind. I must admit I wasn't very good company. I still had rehab, but now I was training in the ring and working out again, as well. That took up half of the day and was physically exhausting in and of itself. Coming back to a depressed wife didn't exactly make me tingle in anticipation. But, again - occasionally there would be really, really good days. It's those days that keep us together, I think. But the bad days are so damn terrible that sometimes I wonder why we don't call it quits.

I can't believe that Stephanie had the nerve to tell me that I am where I am because of her and insinuated that her father had been right for thinking I wasn't good enough for her. I know that she said that because her feelings are hurt that I keep ignoring her – when I'm not being rude or shouting at her. But, I can't help it. Lately, she's been so damn annoying and complaining about absolutely everything that at times I can't even stand to be around her.

Now, she's gone and made it worse by costing me this match.

When I reach my locker room, I slam the door in her face. Stephanie's outside crying and apologizing through the door. I grab her suitcase and the random pair of heels she has occupying the floor. I open the door and ignore her hopeful expression before I reach behind me and place her belongings in her arms. I slam the door again and ignore the screaming and crying that ensues. When she's upset, I'm surprised she doesn't shatter glass with that voice...

February 11, 2002

It's absolutely amazing how much things can change over time. That change can take place over years, months, weeks, days, hours...even minutes. I didn't believe Stephanie when she said that her announcement last Monday would change my entire world. She was wearing the most dopey grin I've ever seen, while I walked around in the worst possible mood.

Stephanie had suggested we renew our wedding vows. That was quite possibly the dumbest thing that had ever come out of her mouth. I didn't see the point. It wasn't even our anniversary. Her explanation for this cockamamie idea was that people thought she was riding my coattails and that we needed to prove that I truly did still love her. At that point, I completely and totally snapped. All of the frustration I'd kept to myself, came tumbling out.

I ended up making her cry. But I was so pissed that I really didn't care. Until she blurted out that she was pregnant.

See what I mean about time? Thirty seconds prior I was at my wits end with Stephanie. Contrary to popular belief, I was _not _planning to end our marriage that night. But still, things were pretty bad and they simply couldn't continue on as they had been. She and I needed to have a serious talk when we weren't in front of the entire world. But her five words, "Hunter it's because I'm pregnant" changed everything.

I was putting the pieces of the puzzle together even before she started explaining that it was the reason for her moodiness and tendency to start fights with me lately. I couldn't do anything but stare at the floor and rub my hand over my face because I felt so guilty. I had been so mean to her over the last few weeks especially...but the only reason she'd been behaving that way was because she's carrying my child.

I am the biggest asshole walking the face of this planet.

When I finally turned around to face her, a little part of me wanted to cry. Because she was crying, touching her stomach and flinching back in fear. She was scared. Of me. She was afraid that I was going to hurt her and our child. I can't describe how terrible that made me feel.

But, I put it aside and remedied the situation. I gave her a huge smile, picked her up, spun her around and kissed the hell out of her. We decided to leave the arena early and I refused to let her carry anything. At our hotel, I readily agreed to renew our wedding vows. That night and the days following, I would have given her anything she wanted, really. She didn't take advantage of that, though. All she wanted was me.

She had a doctor come to Smackdown to meet me and give me the ultrasound picture. It was her idea. But, I know why she did it. She thought that I didn't believe her. Which was totally and completely not true but I understood how she came to that conclusion. It was the timing. Just when people wrongfully assumed we were over for good, she dropped that bombshell. If I didn't trust Stephanie, I wouldn't have believed her. But I do, on both accounts.

So, tonight I'll give her what she wants. I still think it's pretty stupid to renew our wedding vows on a random day, but whatever. I won't rain on her parade. And maybe this can be our fresh start or something. I guess it doesn't make sense to leave all of our issues unresolved when we've got a kid on the way. All right, maybe it isn't such a dumb idea.

My fist clenches as I watch the footage from Smackdown, when Kurt Angle hit me from behind and made me fall directly on Stephanie. When that happened, I wasn't even angry. I was just worried about my wife and baby. After verifying that she was fine, I semi-forgot about it. Probably because she did everything in her power to distract me and make me focus on us. It was damn effective, right up until they showed that footage. I want to wrap my hands around the neck of that thoughtless, insensitive, traitorous leech. I could literally kill him right now.

"Hunter, tonight is about us. Please don't go after Kurt."

A grumble is my response. I turn around, ready to plead my case for why she shouldn't try to stop me from kicking his ass. But, the expression on her face deters that. "I promise," comes flying out of my mouth before I have a chance to protest. "I have to take care of some business, though," I tell her before leaning down to kiss her quickly. She looks worried, but she shouldn't be. I do keep my promises. I have a surprise for her.

I'm walking down the hallway and hear someone call my name. He catches up to me. What the hell is so important that Arn Anderson has just jogged down the hallway to greet me? He congratulates me and hands me some random Fedex package that Ric Flair received earlier today. I have no idea what the hell this is or who sent it to me. Whatever. I've got more important things to think about.

I go to our limo and retrieve the box before making my way back to the room where Stephanie is. I politely ask the random women who are helping her get ready to leave. I tell Steph that I've wanted to do this for her for a long time. I hand her the box and she opens it. I place the new ring on her finger and kind of swell up with pride when she thanks me and bursts into happy tears. Tonight really is perfect.

Okay, seriously. Arn Anderson is getting on my nerves now. He finds me and tells me that Steph's mother, Linda McMahon has been calling Flair's office the entire night looking for me. Even though I don't feel all that grateful for these damn interruptions, I thank him anyway and pull out my cell phone.

Linda tells me to open the package – she's the one who sent it. Apparently, someone anonymously sent it to her and she forwarded it to me. I pop the tape in. Ugh. I don't have the time or patience for these games.

It doesn't immediately register with me. At first I don't understand what exactly it is I'm looking at or what it means. The doctor that examined Stephanie is on this videotape selling some damn vacation package. Why? Doesn't he make enough money not to have to do commercials?

Linda explains that the man is an actor that Stephanie hired to play a doctor and convince me that she's pregnant. But, she's been lying. She isn't pregnant. All of this was just to manipulate me into renewing our wedding vows.

I'm angry, that's for damn sure. And maybe, just maybe, if the entire world hadn't been watching when this occurred I would simply talk to Steph.

But, that's not the case. I can't just let her make a fool out of me on national television. Not after everyone thinks she's been playing me for months. I just came back from an injury, I can't have my reputation tarnished any further by her. That's all that I think about when I walk out to the ring. It's what I continue to think about when Stephanie joins me, looking as beautiful as ever. It's what I can't stop thinking about when the priest speaks the vows, when the wedding singers belt out a loving song, and when Stephanie says the vows that she wrote for me.

I'm honest, when I speak the vows that I've prepared for her. That we've definitely had our ups and downs, but when she told me I was going to be a father it was the greatest moment of my life. That's where I end it the sentimental stuff. It's now or never.

"I see you for what you truly are," I begin, watching the hopeful loving expression on her face. Ignoring the pang in my chest. The regret that I have, that her lie couldn't have come out in private. "A no-good, lying bitch!"

She looks completely shocked and her face falls in sadness and insult. "How could you do this?"

"Do what?" She asks.

"You wanted this _so _bad that you would hire an actor to play a doctor? You would have him show me a picture of our unborn child!"

"What?" She shakes her head furiously. "I would never do that," she insists.

I wave my hand in her face dismissively. "I've done some pretty terrible things in my life. I admit it, I'm an asshole. But even I would not go this low. You disgust me!"

Stephanie's jaw drops in astonishment and I'm slightly pleased that she's stopped lying. She's stopped trying to feign innocence.

"You never gave a crap about us, all you care about is yourself!"

Again, her head shakes. "That's not true," she yells at me.

"Well, you don't have to worry about 'us' anymore."

Tears spring to her eyes. Tears I plan to ignore, with all that I have. "What are you saying?"

I extend my hand and rub her arm. "As of right now, our marriage is over! We are through!"

Stephanie and I stand there staring at each other. I try my best to continue to look pissed off. But, inside, every part of me is aching to comfort her. To wipe away her endless tears...that I've put there, yet again. But, this one is her fault. She needs to suffer for her lies at least for a little while. In a few days I'll probably be ready to talk to her again.

Out of nowhere, Vince shoves me. Anger takes over, because I still hate him and he's been screwing me over ever since my return. I punch him in the face. He falls down like a deflated balloon and I proceed to take the rest of my frustration out on the wedding set. I tear down, rip and kick everything in sight. I hardly notice Stephanie as she moves to the side, out of my path of destruction. Smart girl.

Vince gets back up and attempts to hit me, I kick him in the gut and pedigree his ass right in the middle of the ring. I get up, only to have Stephanie jump in my face.

"Oh my God!" She screams. "What are you doing? Why?"

I don't respond, my heavy breathing won't allow it. I just continue to stare at her, growing angrier by the second. She should be apologizing. She should be on her knees, begging and pleading for my forgiveness. Yet, here she stands, questioning my actions after what she's done.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Hunter?"

I snap. I cover her face with my hand and push as hard as I can.

Everything is tainted red. That's how upset I am over this. I stand above her, my breathing still erratic. I can't believe how quickly things have gone straight to hell. How will our relationship recover from this one? I have no doubt in my mind that I still love her and she still loves me. I know that things have been difficult, but I can't understand why she would resort to this spectacle.

A jumble of thoughts run rampant in my mind. There's so much to think about, so much to feel. Adrenaline is still coursing through my veins, as if I hadn't exerted enough physicality already. The crowd is still going wild. They love a good show – they love the drama. They don't care that my marriage has fallen apart.

Somehow, over my thoughts and over the crowd, I hear her. I hear her scream.

I'm broken out of my reverie and I take a split second to process what's been in front of me this whole time. My vision was red, because Stephanie's covered in it. A huge, bright red spot is staining the front of her dress and it's spreading rapidly. What the hell is happening?

I drop down to my knees beside her. "Stephanie?" I ask, my voice fraught with complete panic.

She doesn't respond, she just lets out a pained groan, with tears streaking down her face. That's when I notice the fact that she's clutching at her stomach.

Oh, God. But, the tape. And Linda. And, the tape. Actor. Travel agent. Hired. Fake doctor. Not a real sonogram.

Not pregnant! She's – she can't be pregnant!

Her cries break my heart and make me feel extremely useless. I scoot closer to her and bring her into my arms. "EMT's!" I shout. "Help!"

I look down at Stephanie. "I know it hurts, baby, but please tell me what's wrong," I urge, in the softest voice I can.

Her chest heaves with her shaking and labored breathing. "The baby," she tells me before another onslaught of tears comes.

I close my eyes tightly for a moment. What have I done?

The crowd is silent and no one seems to be coming to help. I have no idea how much time has passed, but the blood is trickling down her legs and staining the stark white of the ring. I can't wait any longer. She needs to go to the hospital.

I drag her over to the ropes and climb out of the ring. I reach under and pull her out, gathering her into my arms. I'm desperate to ignore the bloody trail that's been left by her and the fact that she's continuing to bleed out in my arms. She curls into me immediately and wraps her arms around my neck tightly.

"It's gonna be ok, Steph," I tell her. I don't promise her that it will be. I can't lie to her. She tenses in my arms and groans loudly again. Then she falls limp.

"Steph?" I ask, looking down. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is slightly parted. She's still breathing. Still alive.

Screw it. I was trying to be gentle as I got her backstage but I'm obviously out of time. I start running as fast as I can. I'm going to put her in the back of the limo and get her to the hospital. If our driver isn't there, I'll drive her my damn self. Where the hell is everyone anyway? Can't they see that she needs help? Why isn't anyone helping?

My questions are answered soon. Most of the roster is standing around looking confused, shocked, frightened and sympathetic. I forget about them and the ache that's beginning in my arms and legs. The parking lot is close.

I round the corner and send a silent prayer up to the heavens. There's an ambulance waiting there already.

I explain what's happened. Badly. I'm mumbling, rambling and probably not making one damn bit of sense. But, they take her from me and strap her to a stretcher. They hook things into her arms.

I can't take this. I space out entirely on the ride over to the emergency room. I'm not brought back to reality until the doors open and they unload her from the truck. I step off right behind them, following as they prepare to take her...to the operating room I'm guessing.

People stare as I walk past. I'm fairly certain I'm covered in blood but I don't care. I don't know much about miscarriages but I know that she was bleeding way too much and that she shouldn't have lost consciousness. I couldn't be more scared if I tried. We're almost to a row of rooms so I speed up, to stand beside her head. "I'm so sorry, Steph. But, please. Please, you have to come back to me," I tell her. "I love you."

"Sir, you'll have to wait out here," someone - probably a doctor, informs me. I don't care enough to look up to see who said it.

I acknowledge the command with a sad nod. I pick up Stephanie's limp, cold hand and press my lips to her palm. I don't take a seat. I stand, looking through the window as they work on her. Inside the room alarms go off and my head starts to spin. The doctors in the room – to me – look like they're running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

What is happening? Did she flat line? I can't – I can't take this. I swallow the impossibly large lump in my throat while I wipe the tears from my eyes. I turn away from the window.

And I'm momentarily startled to see Vince, Shane, Linda and a bunch of cops.

"That's him!" Vince shouts and I'm apprehended almost immediately. Pain shoots up my wrist when they twist my arms behind me and slap the handcuffs on me. I'm in an absolute daze as they read me my rights and tell me what I'm charged with.

Murder.


	8. Breaking Down

LOL Jess...yeah in the storyline I was so irritated at Linda sticking her nose in marital business. And WWF totally dropped the ball with no one caring to figure out who even sent the tape hahaha. Thanks for the reviews, ladies. And lurkers...I would absolutely love to hear from you guys and get your thoughts on the story. Love it? Hate it? Clicking and giving it hits by accident? LOL, let me know! Hope you all enjoy this one...and bear in mind I'm winging it on the portrayal of the justice system, hospital policy, etc haha.

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><p>"No, wait! I didn't do that," I tell the cop who is leading me away from the hospital room. Away from Stephanie.<p>

"The hell you didn't, you're the reason she's in there fighting for her life!" Vince shouts, walking closely behind us. He gestures at me wildly. "This man attacked me and then assaulted my daughter! You saw the scene in there!" He points at a nearby female cop. "She might not even make it!"

Finally, someone interjects on my behalf. Shane grabs Vince's arm and pulls him away as the cops continue leading me towards the exit. I hear him say, "Cool it! Just stay positive! All right? She's a McMahon, she's a fighter!"

"This is my fault," I hear Linda suddenly sob out.

"Not now, Mom," Shane tells her, angrily. "This isn't about you or your stupid revenge plot. It's about Steph. We need to help her pull through this."

I'm shoved onto the open elevator and I keep my gaze fixed onto the floor as it closes. I don't even have it in me to be mad at Linda for her part in this. Not yet, anyway. My only concern is for Stephanie. I hope that knowing that people who care about her are here will help her recover.

Two hours later and I'm still sitting in the damn police station. I want to get back to Stephanie. Or at least know how she is. But, they won't tell me a damn thing. They just keep asking me the same questions over and over again. They keep making me walk them through my side of the story, to see if I'll mess up on the details. They're trying to catch me in a lie...a loose thread that they can tug at until it unravels so badly they can hang me by it.

That's not going to happen. I won't crack or waver in my answers, no matter how much they try to twist my words around. I know what the hell happened.

The cop across the table from me taps his pen onto the desk several times before sighing and running a hand through his dark, closely cropped hair. "So you hit your wife knowing she was pregnant, then," he attempts to confirm.

For the fifth time in the last hour I slam my hands onto the table, palms down. The handcuffs on my wrist rattle noisily. I narrow my eyes and look the questioning officer dead in his green eyes. "No, I did not."

He flips through his notes casually. I know he isn't actually reading them because we've been over this several times. "But, earlier, you admit that she told you she was pregnant a week ago. You even spoke to her doctor, who produced a sonogram."

"I thought she was lying."

His eyes flatten. "I find that hard to believe."

I press my lips together firmly and swallow roughly. "Evidence turned up that she was lying. Her own mother called me and told me she was lying. So, I thought she was lying! I've never done anything like this before," I insist. "I was just so pissed off at the supposed lie that I pushed her. That's it."

The officer puts down his notepad, folds his arms across his chest and leans back casually. I want to punch him right in his smug face when he has the nerve to toss his feet up on the table. I'm not sure why, though. It isn't like the table belongs to me. Maybe it's the fact that this gesture shows he isn't the least bit interested in what I have to say, or thinks I'm selling him a ton of bullshit.

But, I'm not. After seeing that tape and talking to Linda, I had really believed that Stephanie was lying. I wish that I had just confronted her about it instead of going to the ring pretending everything was okay so that I could oust her in front of everyone. Or even if I'd have listened to her and realized that she was genuinely confused as to why I was angry and what I was accusing her of. At any point while we were out there, a turning point could have happened. Something could have occurred that would have stopped me from putting my hands on her.

Stopped me from killing our child and possibly her, as well. What I did was awful, no doubt. But, that wasn't nearly enough force to actually harm her...not even moderately. Even though she was pregnant, I don't think I pushed her hard enough to cause a miscarriage. Especially since she didn't even land on her stomach. Something else must be going on inside of her...that made her more vulnerable to begin with and then was compounded by the toll that carrying a child placed on her body.

Even still, my shove was the catalyst. And since I don't know what else was possibly going on inside of her, this is still my fault. Whatever happens to her and our baby is on me. Stephanie herself looked like she was dying...so I very seriously doubt that our baby is still alive. I hate myself for that. But, I'm more concerned for my wife. Steph and I can always have another child...if she pulls through. And still wants to be with me.

The last memory of her I had when she was awake, was one where she was in so much pain. She was beside herself with emotional and physical hurt. Then she lost consciousness. But, she was still breathing – albeit shallowly. She didn't regain consciousness in the ambulance. And the last time I saw her, doctors were scurrying around her room trying to fix whatever had gone wrong with her, while I got hauled out in cuffs.

According to the police, I will be formally charged within 72 hours. They've arrested me for murder primarily because Vince McMahon is the one who called them and told them I'd battered my wife, thereby killing our child and possibly her as well. He was knocked out cold when all of this was going down, but anyone who saw what the ring looked like can't deny that it looked like a crime scene. Plus, there's the fact that when Vince came to and asked members of the roster where Steph and I were they told him what they saw. They saw me shove his child down to the mat. Then they saw me carry his profusely bleeding, unconscious, barely-breathing only daughter to the ambulance and take off for the hospital.

So, I'm not upset with Vince for calling the cops and relaying what he had been told or led to believe. If I was a father I would do the same thing. I try hard not to focus on the fact that it's my own doing that I'm not a father now and probably won't be.

The right side of the cop's mouth turns up in a knowing smile. "You expect me to believe that, given your record?"

I scoff. He's trying to rattle my confidence by blowing smoke out of his ass. "What record?"

As if what I have to say suddenly interests him, he takes his feet down and leans forward to rest his forearms on the table. "Well, you've been arrested for assault before. And you've been brought in for questioning regarding a police report filed alleging spousal abuse."

"But, I didn't do it!" I exclaim. "My wife came in and told you people she didn't file it and that I hadn't done anything."

The cop shakes his head and his eyes go into a cool, flat, hard stare. "It's going to add weight to the prosecution's case once it goes to trial."

Trial? Hell. These people really think that I hit her on a regular basis. It's ridiculous. I know I have a bad temper sometimes, but I've never intentionally hit Stephanie. I haven't even come close. I can feel my eyes darkening with anger already. That these people would accuse me of...

But, wait. Does that even matter? Does it matter that I've never purposely caused her physical harm? Tonight, I did. And the impact of it is far-reaching, I'm sure. The past is no longer of consequence where this is concerned. I'm officially _that _guy now.

They knew that here. They saw me as _that _guy. And now I do, too. Make no mistake about it, I refuse to sit here and admit that I did this intentionally because it isn't true. But other than that, I don't plan to stick up for myself.

I think the cop sees the realization dawn on my face. That, or he just realizes I'm not going to slip up the way he wants me to. He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up.

He turns his nose down at me in what I assume to be disgust. "Get this wife-beating piece of trash out of my sight," he commands the other officer who's in the corner standing guard.

The officer comes and yanks me up out of my seat. He was probably harsher than necessary. I'd have stood up on my own if he'd asked. I feel absolutely ashamed of myself. I came in here, with the notion that I was an okay husband with good intentions and an occasional anger problem, firmly embedded in my mind. But, they've broken me. Or maybe I've broken me, with my actions. I glance down at myself and can't take my eyes off the crimson stains. Stains from Stephanie's blood that would never have ended up on me or even flowing out of her if I had kept my fury in check.

The officer leads me from the room by my wrists. The back of my throat is completely dry and my eyes burn terribly. I'm almost grateful when we reach the cell they're going to hold me in.

I appreciate the silence, the cessation of probing glances...

The opportunity to be alone and cry.


	9. Compromise

Hunter didn't get a single minute of sleep the previous night. He couldn't with everything that was going on. His thoughts tormented him to the point where he had to figure this out. He had to figure out how he and Stephanie ended up where they were.

But, his thoughts were a fucking mess. He tried to form a timeline of events and was failing miserably because his head was all over the place. He had to focus, so that he could get it right.

So, he'd asked the guard patrolling the cell block for a pen and notepad. And he'd jotted down the moments, events and fights that stuck out the most in his mind.

It was successful. He'd reached a conclusion. They ended up like this because at several points he failed to let her know how much she and her support meant to him. He'd taken his frustration at his injury out on her when all she was trying to do was help. He'd failed horribly at communicating why her help was so infuriating. He'd failed to let her know his feelings on the flirtation with the Alliance. His real feelings, anyway. Sure, he had blown up at her and told her to cool down the sexy, but he hadn't told her why.

Hell, it was a miracle Stephanie had managed to stay with him this long. He'd been terrible. And because they communicated like 2 year olds, she probably didn't know what to think. No wonder they'd fought so much as of late. These last few months likely told her that he didn't love her at all.

There were some good moments, for sure. It hadn't all been bad. And Stephanie surely wasn't totally and completely innocent in this. But, what she'd done was react, to his asshole behavior. That didn't excuse the couple of things she had said and done, though.

From what he could tell they had both messed up. He just messed up considerably more.

The night melted into dawn, before he was finally done. He'd written a story. His and Stephanie's story, as he knew it. As he felt and lived it.

Distractedly, he shuffled along through the line. He grabbed a prepackaged lunch consisting of an apple, sandwich and salad. In theory it was a good, healthy meal. But not when everything was perilously close to going rotten.

And even if it wasn't about to go bad, he had no appetite anyway. He reached the end of the line and maneuvered his way out of the gated area and towards an empty seating area.

At first, he was confused when his things suddenly dropped from his grasp and to the floor. Shoes appeared in his line of vision and he looked up, to see a man standing in front of him, snarling. The other man lifted his head in a brief acknowledgement. "I hear you like to beat up on women. Pregnant women."

_I don't owe him shit, _Hunter thought to himself, angrily. He simply shook his head to the contrary and waited to see what his apparent adversary had to say about that.

The other man was a couple of inches shorter and perhaps thirty pounds lighter. Hunter clearly had the advantage, but this guy was still no small fry.

"Ain't what I heard. You know what we do to guys like that in the pen?"

Hunter lifted one shoulder in a shrug before shaking his head again. __The pen? Christ, I haven't even been formally charged, yet! And pen means penitentiary...like maximum security prison, I think. I'm still at the police station, for crying out loud!__

The other man telegraphed his moves too much. Hunter grabbed his wrist, before the fist would have landed in his face. He twisted the man's arm downward. Then he reared his free arm back and sent the guy flying with a punch to the jaw.

In stunned silence, the man stared up at Hunter from the floor, licking at his busted lip. Hunter stared back, then around him to the shocked faces of the other men. He sighed. He didn't want to fight. He just wanted his wife to be okay. Maybe the fact that he had just leveled what appeared to be the boldest fighter, would keep people away from him.

Without another word or blow, Hunter walked to the secluded corner that had been his destination two minutes ago. He sat down heavily. Inwardly, he cursed the man for knocking his food over. At least he would have had something to mess with while he sat here for the next twenty minutes.

After the lunch period, everyone went back to their respective cells. When Hunter reached his he sat on the uncomfortable bed and buried his head in his hands.

He had no idea how long he had been sitting like that before a tap on the bars got his attention. "Helmsley?"

Hunter remained in the same position. "Yeah?" He muttered.

The guard sighed and unlocked the cell, sliding it open. "You've been sprung."

His hazel eyes went wide with confusion. Who the hell would bail him out? Who the hell would even care about him after what he'd done? He didn't deserve to be free. Hell, he didn't _want _to be free. He wanted to spend the rest of his life punishing himself for killing his wife and child.

But, he needed to see who had took up for him and find out why. He grabbed his papers...his memoirs and followed the guard out. At the processing desk he signed his release papers and received a bag with his personal belongings. It wasn't much; just his cell phone, wallet and wedding ring.

He walked out of the office and into the lobby. That's when he saw her, standing with her back to him.

Hunter couldn't move. He couldn't speak. It was fairly possible he wasn't even breathing.

Stephanie's back was to him but he would recognize her form anywhere. In a sea of people he could pick her out. He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there like a total idiot, but Stephanie tapped her foot impatiently before she turned around.

When her blue eyes connected with his, something inside him screamed and danced with joy. It was so overwhelming that tears sprang to his eyes. He made no move to wipe them away and was only vaguely aware when the wetness touched his cheeks.

But, he didn't want to blink or do anything else sudden. If she was a mirage, he would stay like this forever. He would hold this position until the moment he died, just to be able to see her face for as long as possible.

Hesitantly, she smiled at him. When she spoke, her voice sounded like an angel to him. "Hi."

He was dead already, he knew. Someone had killed him for what he'd done and somehow he'd gone to heaven.

She clasped her hands together and twisted them nervously. "We have a lot to talk about, huh?" When he continued to stand as still as a statue, her eyes went soft with concern. "Hunter?" She asked.

Maybe he was in shock. She was probably the last person he expected to see here. She walked over to stand directly in front of him. "Hunter?" She asked again, waving her hand in his face. "Hunter, answer me!" She commanded, reaching out to shake his shoulders. "Snap out of it!" Finally, she slapped him lightly across the cheek.

At last, he blinked. Angels couldn't harm people, could they? And if this was a dream, the slap would have woken him up. Maybe she was a poltergeist instead. "Stephanie?"

"Yes?"

"Are you an angel?"

She crinkled her brow in confusion. "No."

"A ghost?"

"I'm not dead!" She exclaimed, letting her frustration win for a moment.

Okay, so the last time he'd seen her she wasn't conscious and was bleeding profusely. Which is why she had insisted to her family that she needed to be the one to come here and inform her husband that she was still alive. She had to make him see that she had survived.

_The previous night, Stephanie's POV_

_Somebody squeezes my hand. I don't know who. But, God, I want to. I want to break out of this – this prison I seem to be in._

_My lids feel heavy as I try to open my eyes. I can hear my father and Shane's voices. They seem so close, yet so far away. I have no idea what is happening and I'm scared. Why can't I move? Why can't I see? Why can't I hear them better? My heart starts to thunder in my chest and that's when I hear it. I hear the beeping of a machine. I tune everything else out and focus on that sound._

_I'm in a hospital. Where's Hunter? Why can't I hear his voice? Were we in some kind of accident? Is he..._

_No. I remember now. Our wedding vow renewals. The pain, the blood._

_"The baby!" I exclaim, forcing my eyes to open as I sit up in bed."_

_Both my Dad and Shane jump back from the bed, completely startled. But it wears off quickly and they smile at me._

_"I've never been so happy to see that set of blue eyes," Shane tells me. He was the one squeezing my hand and he does it again._

_"The baby," I repeat softly._

_"I'm so sorry this happened, Stephanie," my father says._

_"I'll get a nurse," Shane declares."_

_"Good idea."_

_"Damn it!" I yell impatiently. "What happened to my baby? Where is Hunter?"_

_Shane makes some unidentifiable expression and rubs the back of his neck. "It's complicated. The doctor wants to explain it to you. As for Hunter..." he hesitates and bites his lip. "He's in jail."_

_I feel my eyes widen and my mouth part. "What? Why?"I look at my father and narrow my eyes at him. He has something to do with this. His face is flushed._

_He averts my gaze and looks at the floor. "I um, had him arrested."_

_"What the hell for? Dad, I need him here!"_

_He tugs the top of his shirt, trying to cool himself down, no doubt. "I overreacted a little."_

_Shane lets out an indignant snort. "A little," he mutters._

_"I had him arrested for...well, murder."_

_"Why the hell would you do that? Dad," I expel a tense breath._

_"Damn it Stephanie! There was blood everywhere. Okay? A trail of your blood in the ring. People told me you were completely unconscious and still bleeding when you were off to the hospital. Some said you looked dead. I figured, at the very least the baby was dead...and you might have been, too. I didn't want him anywhere near you. But I'm admitting now...I...overdid it a bit."_

_I shake my head in disappointment. I've obviously lost my child and my husband and I should be here grieving together. Instead, he's holed up in some jail cell probably beating himself up with worry and guilt. I can understand the guilt...maybe he should feel guilty. At least a little bit. But not until after he's done his husbandly duty of comforting me. I'm so upset with my Dad for taking that away from me._

_And as soon as I get out of here, I'm going to get him released. The idea that he'd purposely kill me or his own flesh and blood is absurd._

_"What else aren't you telling me?" One or both of them has something to do with what happened tonight. I can feel it. The only people capable of this level of deviousness are my own family and my husband. And I know Hunter didn't start this. He'd reacted to it._

_"Mom was here...but we sent her away," Shane admits._

_Oh, boy. What did she do? "Why?"_

_"She ah," Shane starts. "She...damn it."_

_"Just tell me," I hiss out, clenching my fists._

_"I'll get the nurse," my Dad volunteers and escapes from the room before either of us can stop him._

_"She was pissed that Dad welcomed you back as a daughter so quickly after the whole Alliance thing. She felt you needed to be punished. So she tampered with things..."_

_"What things?"_

_"Well, since you went through the WWF to find a doctor to examine you, she...made sure you got a particular one. One that she researched very hard to find...and worked even harder to made sure he examined you. He was fresh out of medical school and to finance some of his education he had done some television work."_

_"I don't understand." I'm trying to find out why my husband thinks I lied to him and Shane's talking about freakin' medical school actors, funding their schooling with acting or something. This isn't helping anything._

_"Mom acquired one of his prior commercials. She sent it to Hunter, then called him and told him you'd hired an actor to play a doctor and that you weren't actually pregnant."_

_"What the hell?" I ask loudly. "Where does she get off-what is wrong with this damn family?" I question. " If she wants to punish me for trying to run her out of business she should have kept it to business. She had no right to try to screw around with my-"_

_My brother holds up a hand to stop my rant. "I know. She was way over the line, that's why I made sure she left...you don't need the extra stress of having to hear her apologies right now."_

_"Damn right," I agree, leaning back against the pillows as my Dad walks in with a nurse and doctor in tow._

_I take a deep breath. It's time to find out what I already know. The truth is that I'd been having some spotting and abdominal cramping. I thought it was normal...and it didn't hurt so bad. It was tolerable until tonight. Hopefully the hospitalization period for miscarriages isn't very long. I feel fine. Really._

Present Day

A strangled cry he hadn't known he was capable of escaped Hunter's lips as he pulled her to him and clung to her for dear life. He buried his face into her neck and inhaled the sweet, faint scent of her perfume. He wanted to memorize everything about her. She wasn't an angel or a ghost. And he wasn't dreaming. He could possibly be hallucinating or have had a nervous breakdown and was in the loony bin. But, he wasn't and he knew that now. He knew it the second she was in his arms. It felt too good to not be real. "The last time I saw you," he took a second to steady his breathing. "You were in so much pain," he murmured into her neck. "Then the blood. Not moving," he rambled out through his tears. "Flat line," he told her.

"I know." For some of it she was unconscious, but she remembered the horrible pain. And the blood. She had never been more scared in her entire life. And she'd never seen her husband look that scared either. She was losing the baby and she knew it. Hunter had realized she was actually pregnant and was having a miscarriage. But, it wasn't his fault and she had to make sure he knew that.

Soothingly, she rubbed his back and hushed him, holding him every bit as hard as he held her. They stood in silence for a few minutes until he had composed himself.

Hunter pulled back to look into her face. She had been crying, too, but had obviously been doing it with more composure than him. "I'm so sorry, Stephanie. For everything. I'm sorry I pushed you and for how I've been treating you...and for not believing you about the baby. Oh, God, our baby!" His voice hitched and she could tell he was about to break down again when he reached his arms out to her.

She took a step back and grabbed his arms at his wrists. She had to make him listen before he fell to pieces on her. "It wasn't your fault."

Hunter shook his head defiantly. "It was. If I'd believed you. Not pushed. Miscarriages, first trimester."

Stephanie sighed. This was a very delicate topic that they shouldn't rush. But, Hunter was so hysterical that he couldn't even form coherent sentences. He wasn't leaving her with much of a choice. "I had a heterotopic pregnancy."

His arms dropped to his sides and he stopped rambling long enough to tilt his head to the side in confusion. "A what?"

"Basically, we had two babies. One was developing where it was supposed to and the other one was in my fallopian tube. The tube ruptured and caused the horrible cramping, terrible bleeding and fainting." She looked down for a moment. "It could have been fatal," she admitted. She was still trying to get used to the idea that she'd really had a brush with death. They had stopped the bleeding fairly quickly, but she had still required a transfusion to replace what had been lost. They kept her overnight to make sure the surgery was a success and that there were no problems with the donated blood that was running through her veins.

Hunter stared at her in shock. "My God!"

"But it wasn't anyone's fault, Hunter. I had none of the predisposing factors, so they're stumped as to how this happened. My hormone levels were where they should have been because there was a normal pregnancy in there. So the doctor didn't think to check anywhere else, there was no suspicion of this. The tubes ruptured because the baby basically grew too big for it to hold. Some of these types of pregnancies miscarry early on. Some don't and end up being removed. Some rupture after a certain time, like mine did. But none of those fetuses ever survive." As soon as she had proof of what happened, she'd gone over to the district attorney's office, demanded that they not file any formal charges and release her husband immediately. Once she provided her medical documents, they had complied instantly. They probably didn't want to upset her, given all that she had been through in the last twenty four hours.

In understanding, he nodded. He wasn't going to be selfish and feel relief for the fact that what happened wasn't his fault. Technically, he'd still put his hands on her. And, they'd still lost their baby. These were the things to worry about. And the relief that he felt was because she made it out of this in one piece.

"They did emergency surgery to stop the bleeding and get the tubal baby out of there. That's the bad news," she explained.

"You almost died, Steph. I thought you did...I thought I killed you both." He reached out to trace her jaw line with his thumb.

Stephanie shook her head and smiled at him. This time it wasn't a hesitant or timid smile. It was a wide, genuine one. "We're fine Hunter."

Both of his eyebrows raised in legitimate confusion. There was absolutely no way their baby could have survived all of that. Was there? "We?"

"That's the good news. I had a very good, very quick doctor. The other baby, the one we actually knew about, is fine."

He smiled brilliantly. Hours ago, he thought his life was over in all the ways that mattered. Now it seemed that everything he thought he'd lost...by his own hands, no less, was coming back to him. "How is that possible?"

"It's a risky pregnancy...I have to be even more careful now. But the chances are really good."

He leaned down and kissed his wife passionately. "I'm gonna be a daddy!" He exclaimed, gingerly placing a hand on her stomach.

She anxiously chewed her lip.

And, he panicked. "What is it? Are you in pain?"

"I'm fine. Good meds," she smiled then ran a hand through her hair nervously. "I just want some clarification...that this reaction you're having means that you still love me. Because I love you and-"

"Stop, Steph," he chuckled in the middle of her rambling. "I love you. Even when I thought you were lying, I loved you. What I need to know from you, is if you can forgive me for...well, everything."

She nodded. "I can. One thing, though," she requested.

"Name it."

The smile disappeared as her face went serious. "Don't you dare even think of arguing with me on this," her eyes narrowed. "But, we're going to marriage counseling, Hunter. The last few months have gone pretty terribly and we're not bringing our child into the world like this. We need to figure out where we went wrong."

His answer was a nod. "I won't argue with you. But, we might not need it. I figured it out!" He told her proudly, holding up his retelling of the events.

Unable to help herself at the sight of his enthusiasm, her lips twitched into a smile. "Might I ask what that is?"

"It's like a journal...of the past few months. There was no way in hell I could sleep. I wanted to figure out what happened between us. And I think I did," he waved the bundle for emphasis. "I want you to read it and see what you think. We can talk about it some more afterwards and if you still think we need the counseling, we'll go."

_Marriages are pretty much all about compromise, _she decided. "Deal."

That afternoon and part of the evening, Stephanie was glued to Hunter's manuscript. It was both interesting and enlightening to read his perspective on things. It was also nice to understand where his mood swings had come from over the last several months. She felt like she knew him better. That these problems could be avoided entirely in the future.

She was definitely going to talk to him and express that she got it now. And apologize for some of the problems that she had unknowingly caused. But, if they were truly going to fix things, he needed to hear her side of the story. She would highlight certain things about what he wrote, and tell him what she felt when the event had been happening. Maybe she'd even write a counter-chronicle.

Either way, things were looking up. "We're gonna be just fine," she rubbed her flat stomach affectionately. "I know it."

* * *

><p>So, I did a teeny amount of research on the justice system processthe heterotopic pregnancy thing. But, hospitalization time depends on several factors so I figured I'd let her out sooner rather than later. At first, she was going to be hospitalized/Hunter in jail for a week. And I toyed with the idea of having her lose both babies...but that was just so mean. LOL. I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Review, review, review! :-D


	10. Repost of ch 9 for those who can't see

Hunter didn't get a single minute of sleep the previous night. He couldn't with everything that was going on. His thoughts tormented him to the point where he had to figure this out. He had to figure out how he and Stephanie ended up where they were.

But, his thoughts were a fucking mess. He tried to form a timeline of events and was failing miserably because his head was all over the place. He had to focus, so that he could get it right.

So, he'd asked the guard patrolling the cell block for a pen and notepad. And he'd jotted down the moments, events and fights that stuck out the most in his mind.

It was successful. He'd reached a conclusion. They ended up like this because at several points he failed to let her know how much she and her support meant to him. He'd taken his frustration at his injury out on her when all she was trying to do was help. He'd failed horribly at communicating why her help was so infuriating. He'd failed to let her know his feelings on the flirtation with the Alliance. His real feelings, anyway. Sure, he had blown up at her and told her to cool down the sexy, but he hadn't told her why.

Hell, it was a miracle Stephanie had managed to stay with him this long. He'd been terrible. And because they communicated like 2 year olds, she probably didn't know what to think. No wonder they'd fought so much as of late. These last few months likely told her that he didn't love her at all.

There were some good moments, for sure. It hadn't all been bad. And Stephanie surely wasn't totally and completely innocent in this. But, what she'd done was react, to his asshole behavior. That didn't excuse the couple of things she had said and done, though.

From what he could tell they had both messed up. He just messed up considerably more.

The night melted into dawn, before he was finally done. He'd written a story. His and Stephanie's story, as he knew it. As he felt and lived it.

Distractedly, he shuffled along through the line. He grabbed a prepackaged lunch consisting of an apple, sandwich and salad. In theory it was a good, healthy meal. But not when everything was perilously close to going rotten.

And even if it wasn't about to go bad, he had no appetite anyway. He reached the end of the line and maneuvered his way out of the gated area and towards an empty seating area.

At first, he was confused when his things suddenly dropped from his grasp and to the floor. Shoes appeared in his line of vision and he looked up, to see a man standing in front of him, snarling. The other man lifted his head in a brief acknowledgement. "I hear you like to beat up on women. Pregnant women."

_I don't owe him shit, _Hunter thought to himself, angrily. He simply shook his head to the contrary and waited to see what his apparent adversary had to say about that.

The other man was a couple of inches shorter and perhaps thirty pounds lighter. Hunter clearly had the advantage, but this guy was still no small fry.

"Ain't what I heard. You know what we do to guys like that in the pen?"

Hunter lifted one shoulder in a shrug before shaking his head again. __The pen? Christ, I haven't even been formally charged, yet! And pen means penitentiary...like maximum security prison, I think. I'm still at the police station, for crying out loud!__

The other man telegraphed his moves too much. Hunter grabbed his wrist, before the fist would have landed in his face. He twisted the man's arm downward. Then he reared his free arm back and sent the guy flying with a punch to the jaw.

In stunned silence, the man stared up at Hunter from the floor, licking at his busted lip. Hunter stared back, then around him to the shocked faces of the other men. He sighed. He didn't want to fight. He just wanted his wife to be okay. Maybe the fact that he had just leveled what appeared to be the boldest fighter, would keep people away from him.

Without another word or blow, Hunter walked to the secluded corner that had been his destination two minutes ago. He sat down heavily. Inwardly, he cursed the man for knocking his food over. At least he would have had something to mess with while he sat here for the next twenty minutes.

After the lunch period, everyone went back to their respective cells. When Hunter reached his he sat on the uncomfortable bed and buried his head in his hands.

He had no idea how long he had been sitting like that before a tap on the bars got his attention. "Helmsley?"

Hunter remained in the same position. "Yeah?" He muttered.

The guard sighed and unlocked the cell, sliding it open. "You've been sprung."

His hazel eyes went wide with confusion. Who the hell would bail him out? Who the hell would even care about him after what he'd done? He didn't deserve to be free. Hell, he didn't _want _to be free. He wanted to spend the rest of his life punishing himself for killing his wife and child.

But, he needed to see who had took up for him and find out why. He grabbed his papers...his memoirs and followed the guard out. At the processing desk he signed his release papers and received a bag with his personal belongings. It wasn't much; just his cell phone, wallet and wedding ring.

He walked out of the office and into the lobby. That's when he saw her, standing with her back to him.

Hunter couldn't move. He couldn't speak. It was fairly possible he wasn't even breathing.

Stephanie's back was to him but he would recognize her form anywhere. In a sea of people he could pick her out. He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there like a total idiot, but Stephanie tapped her foot impatiently before she turned around.

When her blue eyes connected with his, something inside him screamed and danced with joy. It was so overwhelming that tears sprang to his eyes. He made no move to wipe them away and was only vaguely aware when the wetness touched his cheeks.

But, he didn't want to blink or do anything else sudden. If she was a mirage, he would stay like this forever. He would hold this position until the moment he died, just to be able to see her face for as long as possible.

Hesitantly, she smiled at him. When she spoke, her voice sounded like an angel to him. "Hi."

He was dead already, he knew. Someone had killed him for what he'd done and somehow he'd gone to heaven.

She clasped her hands together and twisted them nervously. "We have a lot to talk about, huh?" When he continued to stand as still as a statue, her eyes went soft with concern. "Hunter?" She asked.

Maybe he was in shock. She was probably the last person he expected to see here. She walked over to stand directly in front of him. "Hunter?" She asked again, waving her hand in his face. "Hunter, answer me!" She commanded, reaching out to shake his shoulders. "Snap out of it!" Finally, she slapped him lightly across the cheek.

At last, he blinked. Angels couldn't harm people, could they? And if this was a dream, the slap would have woken him up. Maybe she was a poltergeist instead. "Stephanie?"

"Yes?"

"Are you an angel?"

She crinkled her brow in confusion. "No."

"A ghost?"

"I'm not dead!" She exclaimed, letting her frustration win for a moment.

Okay, so the last time he'd seen her she wasn't conscious and was bleeding profusely. Which is why she had insisted to her family that she needed to be the one to come here and inform her husband that she was still alive. She had to make him see that she had survived.

_The previous night, Stephanie's POV_

_Somebody squeezes my hand. I don't know who. But, God, I want to. I want to break out of this – this prison I seem to be in._

_My lids feel heavy as I try to open my eyes. I can hear my father and Shane's voices. They seem so close, yet so far away. I have no idea what is happening and I'm scared. Why can't I move? Why can't I see? Why can't I hear them better? My heart starts to thunder in my chest and that's when I hear it. I hear the beeping of a machine. I tune everything else out and focus on that sound._

_I'm in a hospital. Where's Hunter? Why can't I hear his voice? Were we in some kind of accident? Is he..._

_No. I remember now. Our wedding vow renewals. The pain, the blood._

_"The baby!" I exclaim, forcing my eyes to open as I sit up in bed."_

_Both my Dad and Shane jump back from the bed, completely startled. But it wears off quickly and they smile at me._

_"I've never been so happy to see that set of blue eyes," Shane tells me. He was the one squeezing my hand and he does it again._

_"The baby," I repeat softly._

_"I'm so sorry this happened, Stephanie," my father says._

_"I'll get a nurse," Shane declares."_

_"Good idea."_

_"Damn it!" I yell impatiently. "What happened to my baby? Where is Hunter?"_

_Shane makes some unidentifiable expression and rubs the back of his neck. "It's complicated. The doctor wants to explain it to you. As for Hunter..." he hesitates and bites his lip. "He's in jail."_

_I feel my eyes widen and my mouth part. "What? Why?"I look at my father and narrow my eyes at him. He has something to do with this. His face is flushed._

_He averts my gaze and looks at the floor. "I um, had him arrested."_

_"What the hell for? Dad, I need him here!"_

_He tugs the top of his shirt, trying to cool himself down, no doubt. "I overreacted a little."_

_Shane lets out an indignant snort. "A little," he mutters._

_"I had him arrested for...well, murder."_

_"Why the hell would you do that? Dad," I expel a tense breath._

_"Damn it Stephanie! There was blood everywhere. Okay? A trail of your blood in the ring. People told me you were completely unconscious and still bleeding when you were off to the hospital. Some said you looked dead. I figured, at the very least the baby was dead...and you might have been, too. I didn't want him anywhere near you. But I'm admitting now...I...overdid it a bit."_

_I shake my head in disappointment. I've obviously lost my child and my husband and I should be here grieving together. Instead, he's holed up in some jail cell probably beating himself up with worry and guilt. I can understand the guilt...maybe he should feel guilty. At least a little bit. But not until after he's done his husbandly duty of comforting me. I'm so upset with my Dad for taking that away from me._

_And as soon as I get out of here, I'm going to get him released. The idea that he'd purposely kill me or his own flesh and blood is absurd._

_"What else aren't you telling me?" One or both of them has something to do with what happened tonight. I can feel it. The only people capable of this level of deviousness are my own family and my husband. And I know Hunter didn't start this. He'd reacted to it._

_"Mom was here...but we sent her away," Shane admits._

_Oh, boy. What did she do? "Why?"_

_"She ah," Shane starts. "She...damn it."_

_"Just tell me," I hiss out, clenching my fists._

_"I'll get the nurse," my Dad volunteers and escapes from the room before either of us can stop him._

_"She was pissed that Dad welcomed you back as a daughter so quickly after the whole Alliance thing. She felt you needed to be punished. So she tampered with things..."_

_"What things?"_

_"Well, since you went through the WWF to find a doctor to examine you, she...made sure you got a particular one. One that she researched very hard to find...and worked even harder to made sure he examined you. He was fresh out of medical school and to finance some of his education he had done some television work."_

_"I don't understand." I'm trying to find out why my husband thinks I lied to him and Shane's talking about freakin' medical school actors, funding their schooling with acting or something. This isn't helping anything._

_"Mom acquired one of his prior commercials. She sent it to Hunter, then called him and told him you'd hired an actor to play a doctor and that you weren't actually pregnant."_

_"What the hell?" I ask loudly. "Where does she get off-what is wrong with this damn family?" I question. " If she wants to punish me for trying to run her out of business she should have kept it to business. She had no right to try to screw around with my-"_

_My brother holds up a hand to stop my rant. "I know. She was way over the line, that's why I made sure she left...you don't need the extra stress of having to hear her apologies right now."_

_"Damn right," I agree, leaning back against the pillows as my Dad walks in with a nurse and doctor in tow._

_I take a deep breath. It's time to find out what I already know. The truth is that I'd been having some spotting and abdominal cramping. I thought it was normal...and it didn't hurt so bad. It was tolerable until tonight. Hopefully the hospitalization period for miscarriages isn't very long. I feel fine. Really._

Present Day

A strangled cry he hadn't known he was capable of escaped Hunter's lips as he pulled her to him and clung to her for dear life. He buried his face into her neck and inhaled the sweet, faint scent of her perfume. He wanted to memorize everything about her. She wasn't an angel or a ghost. And he wasn't dreaming. He could possibly be hallucinating or have had a nervous breakdown and was in the loony bin. But, he wasn't and he knew that now. He knew it the second she was in his arms. It felt too good to not be real. "The last time I saw you," he took a second to steady his breathing. "You were in so much pain," he murmured into her neck. "Then the blood. Not moving," he rambled out through his tears. "Flat line," he told her.

"I know." For some of it she was unconscious, but she remembered the horrible pain. And the blood. She had never been more scared in her entire life. And she'd never seen her husband look that scared either. She was losing the baby and she knew it. Hunter had realized she was actually pregnant and was having a miscarriage. But, it wasn't his fault and she had to make sure he knew that.

Soothingly, she rubbed his back and hushed him, holding him every bit as hard as he held her. They stood in silence for a few minutes until he had composed himself.

Hunter pulled back to look into her face. She had been crying, too, but had obviously been doing it with more composure than him. "I'm so sorry, Stephanie. For everything. I'm sorry I pushed you and for how I've been treating you...and for not believing you about the baby. Oh, God, our baby!" His voice hitched and she could tell he was about to break down again when he reached his arms out to her.

She took a step back and grabbed his arms at his wrists. She had to make him listen before he fell to pieces on her. "It wasn't your fault."

Hunter shook his head defiantly. "It was. If I'd believed you. Not pushed. Miscarriages, first trimester."

Stephanie sighed. This was a very delicate topic that they shouldn't rush. But, Hunter was so hysterical that he couldn't even form coherent sentences. He wasn't leaving her with much of a choice. "I had a heterotopic pregnancy."

His arms dropped to his sides and he stopped rambling long enough to tilt his head to the side in confusion. "A what?"

"Basically, we had two babies. One was developing where it was supposed to and the other one was in my fallopian tube. The tube ruptured and caused the horrible cramping, terrible bleeding and fainting." She looked down for a moment. "It could have been fatal," she admitted. She was still trying to get used to the idea that she'd really had a brush with death. They had stopped the bleeding fairly quickly, but she had still required a transfusion to replace what had been lost. They kept her overnight to make sure the surgery was a success and that there were no problems with the donated blood that was running through her veins.

Hunter stared at her in shock. "My God!"

"But it wasn't anyone's fault, Hunter. I had none of the predisposing factors, so they're stumped as to how this happened. My hormone levels were where they should have been because there was a normal pregnancy in there. So the doctor didn't think to check anywhere else, there was no suspicion of this. The tubes ruptured because the baby basically grew too big for it to hold. Some of these types of pregnancies miscarry early on. Some don't and end up being removed. Some rupture after a certain time, like mine did. But none of those fetuses ever survive." As soon as she had proof of what happened, she'd gone over to the district attorney's office, demanded that they not file any formal charges and release her husband immediately. Once she provided her medical documents, they had complied instantly. They probably didn't want to upset her, given all that she had been through in the last twenty four hours.

In understanding, he nodded. He wasn't going to be selfish and feel relief for the fact that what happened wasn't his fault. Technically, he'd still put his hands on her. And, they'd still lost their baby. These were the things to worry about. And the relief that he felt was because she made it out of this in one piece.

"They did emergency surgery to stop the bleeding and get the tubal baby out of there. That's the bad news," she explained.

"You almost died, Steph. I thought you did...I thought I killed you both." He reached out to trace her jaw line with his thumb.

Stephanie shook her head and smiled at him. This time it wasn't a hesitant or timid smile. It was a wide, genuine one. "We're fine Hunter."

Both of his eyebrows raised in legitimate confusion. There was absolutely no way their baby could have survived all of that. Was there? "We?"

"That's the good news. I had a very good, very quick doctor. The other baby, the one we actually knew about, is fine."

He smiled brilliantly. Hours ago, he thought his life was over in all the ways that mattered. Now it seemed that everything he thought he'd lost...by his own hands, no less, was coming back to him. "How is that possible?"

"It's a risky pregnancy...I have to be even more careful now. But the chances are really good."

He leaned down and kissed his wife passionately. "I'm gonna be a daddy!" He exclaimed, gingerly placing a hand on her stomach.

She anxiously chewed her lip.

And, he panicked. "What is it? Are you in pain?"

"I'm fine. Good meds," she smiled then ran a hand through her hair nervously. "I just want some clarification...that this reaction you're having means that you still love me. Because I love you and-"

"Stop, Steph," he chuckled in the middle of her rambling. "I love you. Even when I thought you were lying, I loved you. What I need to know from you, is if you can forgive me for...well, everything."

She nodded. "I can. One thing, though," she requested.

"Name it."

The smile disappeared as her face went serious. "Don't you dare even think of arguing with me on this," her eyes narrowed. "But, we're going to marriage counseling, Hunter. The last few months have gone pretty terribly and we're not bringing our child into the world like this. We need to figure out where we went wrong."

His answer was a nod. "I won't argue with you. But, we might not need it. I figured it out!" He told her proudly, holding up his retelling of the events.

Unable to help herself at the sight of his enthusiasm, her lips twitched into a smile. "Might I ask what that is?"

"It's like a journal...of the past few months. There was no way in hell I could sleep. I wanted to figure out what happened between us. And I think I did," he waved the bundle for emphasis. "I want you to read it and see what you think. We can talk about it some more afterwards and if you still think we need the counseling, we'll go."

_Marriages are pretty much all about compromise, _she decided. "Deal."

That afternoon and part of the evening, Stephanie was glued to Hunter's manuscript. It was both interesting and enlightening to read his perspective on things. It was also nice to understand where his mood swings had come from over the last several months. She felt like she knew him better. That these problems could be avoided entirely in the future.

She was definitely going to talk to him and express that she got it now. And apologize for some of the problems that she had unknowingly caused. But, if they were truly going to fix things, he needed to hear her side of the story. She would highlight certain things about what he wrote, and tell him what she felt when the event had been happening. Maybe she'd even write a counter-chronicle.

Either way, things were looking up. "We're gonna be just fine," she rubbed her flat stomach affectionately. "I know it."

* * *

><p>So, I did a teeny amount of research on the justice system processthe heterotopic pregnancy thing. But, hospitalization time depends on several factors so I figured I'd let her out sooner rather than later. At first, she was going to be hospitalized/Hunter in jail for a week. And I toyed with the idea of having her lose both babies...but that was just so mean. LOL. I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Review, review, review! :-D


	11. A Letter and a Promise

Okay so, you all know that there are only 9 chapters of this fic so far! There was some glitch with ch 9, so it's double posted as ch 10. Here's the actual chapter 10...the final chapter of this fic! Hope you've all enjoyed the ride! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! This chapter is mostly uneventful, I think...but is a nice way to tie up loose ends, time frame for this is no more than a day after Steph gets him released.

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><p>"Hey," Stephanie greeted softly, her long arms sneaking over the back of the recliner to envelop her husband.<p>

"Hiya," he returned, turning his head to kiss her on the cheek.

Stephanie released the embrace and chewed her lip, worriedly. "This is for you." She reached into her back pocket and produced a wad of her very own stationary. "It's a letter," she explained. "A long letter."

Hunter used the remote to mute the television. He stretched out his legs and stood up to take the small, bundled stack of paper from her. Curiously, he glanced at her. "Why a letter?"

She expelled a nervous breath and pushed her hair behind her ears. "Well, I wanted to respond to what you wrote. It seemed redundant to basically retell the story, from my perspective. But if I tried to tell you what I feel out loud, I'd probably miss some points."

The smallest of smiles touched his lips. "Okay, I'll read it right now."

When he began to unbundle the papers, she reached out and grabbed his hands, stilling the movement. "Wait until I'm out of sight," she stipulated.

He tilted his head and arched his eyebrow in question.

A low chuckle escaped her and she chewed her lip again. "I'm a little...nervous. About what you'll think," she admitted. "I don't want to know your reaction as you go along. I don't want to...discuss anything as you're reading it. I let my emotions get the better of me at certain parts. So just come to me upstairs when you're done."

She didn't give him a chance to agree or to protest. She simply pressed a kiss to his lips and turned around to dart up the stairs.

Hunter watched after her, thoroughly confused. He wasn't all that worried; she was staying in the house so it wasn't like she was leaving him high and dry. Whatever was in this letter, he was confident they would work it out somehow.

He took a swallow from his water bottle and settled back into the recliner, pulling apart the binding ribbon she had tied around her work.

_Dear Hunter,_

_First of all, I have to say that I'm really sorry for the pain you went through these last couple of days. If there was a way that I could have spared you of it, I would have. I know that it's nobody's fault that I had this abnormal pregnancy. But, I do feel somewhat responsible for what my mother tried to do to us. I should have expected some form of payback after I tried to run her and my Dad out of business. Still, I was very disappointed to learn that you would believe one of my conniving family members, over me. _

_I know that there have been times that I said or did something that might have made you doubt me. But, the one thing I've never done is lie to you. The fact that you could think I would choose to begin lying...about something so important and life-changing, really hurt me. In a way, it still does. _

_Just so you know, I'm not entirely sure that I'm wording this properly. I'm sure I'll jumble my thoughts and perhaps speak too bluntly. But, I don't want to hold anything back. So, here goes. _

_The main thing I got from what I read is that you seem to have a real problem with opening up to me. It's not that you inherently don't trust me – it's more like you underestimate me. You seem to think that your thoughts and feelings are beyond my comprehension and/or that I'm incapable of seeing past my own thoughts and feelings to deal with yours appropriately._

_I had no idea that you were awake when my Dad said those horrible things at our hotel. I defended you and our relationship to him and all but told him to stay the hell away from us if he couldn't accept that I would never willingly leave your side. You were half right; some of the sadness that you saw in my eyes was because there was a gaping hole in my relationship with my father again. I felt stupid. It really seemed like he had come to support our marriage prior to your injury. I thought that he was showing up to encourage us in your recovery. But, I was so very wrong. You knew that I would be wrong, too. I could tell by the way our interactions went that day, that you knew his visit would end up horribly. I didn't bring the topic up at all, I completely ignored it and told myself you were just being a pessimist and were grumpy because you were in pain._

_But, you were right. And I felt stupid for believing that my Dad cared about anything other than money. I realized that he had aligned himself with us because it was less costly than trying to fight with us. Together, we proved to be too much of a challenge, too much for him to handle. So, he played nice. And I misread the situation, thinking that he just really wanted to be my father again. His visit, effectively pulled the rug out from under me: he thought you would no longer make him money and that you were therefore useless. It just...hurt that he could think that way about someone I love so much. It hurt that he believed that I could ever think of you as disposable. _

_It was just a wake-up call for me. And I felt horrible that had you not fallen asleep after your pain medication, you would have been forced to endure his bullshit all because I was too naive to want to see the truth. _

_After reading your side of things, I am somewhat glad that you heard what I said when I kicked him out that day. But, it also saddens me that even after that, you still didn't really believe that I'd stick by you. _

_Despite the fact that I absolutely love you with all of my heart, it wasn't easy to be around you during your recovery. Especially not once you started being able to rely on the crutches less. I was supposed to be helping you out; you were only supposed to do the simple things to take care of yourself. But, you're so incredibly stubborn. Usually I love that about you. But, not when you're risking hurting yourself again. Did you ever stop to think about how I felt seeing you in pain? While you were risking further injury trying to make meals and whatnot, I'll bet it didn't cross your mind that I was terrified of that. _

_You felt like you were failing me as a husband because you couldn't do certain things. Well, I felt like a failure as a wife because I wasn't able to help you. I couldn't do a damn thing to help you – not physically or emotionally. You just wanted to shut down and be mad at the world until you were cleared to get off the crutches. I had no idea how to get through to you and to make matters worse, sometimes I didn't want to. There were times that I got so frustrated that I wanted to just sit on my ass and watch you fend for yourself. "It would serve him right," is what I would think to myself. Then, I felt horribly guilty for feeling that way and tried to just put myself in your shoes to calm my temper. _

_In hindsight, the ECW thing might not have been the best idea. I did have somewhat of an ulterior motive for being a part of the attempted takeover. I wanted to prove to my father that I was still a threat to his position of power, without you. I know, it sounds really stupid. But the way he treated me after your injury really pissed me off. He all but suggested that I leave you for someone uninjured so that I didn't waste my life. Do you see the implication there? He thinks that I'm incapable of surviving without a strong, healthy male at my side. I'm not saying that you aren't those things...but you heard what he said – he regarded you as essentially useless and was furious that I'd continue to be with you throughout your rehab._

_Shane and I came very close to beating him, too. I don't regret the experience as a whole, but I do regret that I didn't break away from the implication that the only time I'm ever a success is when there's a guy around. In this case, that guy was my own brother. But, he was the one who initiated this whole thing, I just sort of came on board. So, I'm not going to dwell on it too much since it wasn't totally my idea._

_The twinge of regret I feel is for the damage that it caused our relationship and our reputations. I had no idea that the rumors were so vicious. But, I'm happy that you know it's just a bunch of crap and that I didn't actually do any of those things. I'll readily admit that I was selfish and didn't stop to think about how my flirtation would affect you professionally. Personally, I knew that even though you were outwardly cool with it, you'd still be the slightest bit jealous. I liked that...if I'm going to be honest I kind of wanted it. I felt like our relationship was low on your priority list and that by maybe seeing that other men found me attractive and would do my bidding without hesitation, that maybe you'd try harder._

_But you didn't. And it backfired horribly because of those whispers I didn't know about. You let your feelings about it fester and it just turned into this gigantic fight between us. The only good thing that came out of it was that you actually flew up to see me for a change. I know that I was pretty difficult at first..._

_I'd spent the previous evening and most of that morning being an emotional wreck. I wanted to forgive you, but my pride wouldn't let me. Not when you had been so cold...and sometimes cruel. I got angry when I opened the hotel room door and saw you standing there. I was angry that the only reason you'd made the effort was because I wouldn't take or return your calls the night before. _

_I knew that even though it was my birthday, you still wouldn't have made the effort to be with me, had that fight not happened. I kept telling myself that you didn't deserve my forgiveness so soon and that if I didn't make it hard on you, nothing would change. _

_I wanted to...more or less force you to be nicer. Consistently. Of course I completely and totally lost my determination as soon as you grabbed me. I forgave you instantly and I was a little pissed at myself for that after the novelty of the day wore off and you flew back to Birmingham._

_So, the feelings I should have expressed to you then, came out when I told you about Kurt Angle wanting to defect. More so, what I'd needed to say came out when I had to persuade you to be okay with his defection. That was awful of me and horrible timing. I apologize for guilt-tripping you into that._

_Truth be told, you really pissed me off when you mandated that Kurt not defect. Hell, you didn't care that Stone Cold Steve Austin – your former partner who trash talked you after your injury – defected. You only batted an eyelash because you were shocked. But, you recognized that he would be of great use to the Alliance. I called to update you all the time and for the most part all you did was agree with whatever I said. You didn't give one ounce of a damn about what Shane and I were up to until Kurt became involved._

_It annoyed me that you suddenly wanted to assert your authority, just because you don't like the guy. I'm not saying you don't have a right not to like him, but still. _

_Let me stop there. This doesn't really matter, because he completely screwed the Alliance over anyway. So I'm not going to defend his "trustworthiness"...but it made me very upset that you were only looking at it from the personal perspective and not the business one. _

_I'm just going to run off a string of apologizes before I explain why I did these things in the first place._

_I'm sorry for going out to the ring and taking credit for your success. I'm sorry I cost you that match against Booker T. I'm sorry I was so annoying around that time. _

_And I'm really, truly sorry that I said your career was successful because of me, right before I implied that my father was right for thinking you weren't good enough for me. First of all, I'm insanely pleased that you knew I didn't mean what I said – that I had only said it because you hurt my feelings and I wanted to hurt you back._

_But, that's childish and I shouldn't have said it. It was hitting way below the belt._

_We were having similar issues; we just didn't know it. You felt the need to prove to the world that you didn't need my help to be a success. And I was feeling insecure that the world spun that around and thought I was hanging on to you, just to stay in the business. I started to wonder if you felt that way, especially given how mean you had been to me lately. _

_Renewing our wedding vows wasn't a matter of proving to the world that you still loved me. It was more like my roundabout way of asking if you did. I didn't want to tell you about the baby before I knew that. I didn't want you to feel like I trapped you with a pregnancy, to save our failing marriage. I love you too much to do that. Intentionally, anyway._

_When you declined the idea, I realized how stupid my presentation had been. I hadn't thought of any backup excuses for the ceremony, so I told the truth. I'm still not sure how I feel about that, honestly. Even though I was initially happy when you agreed to what I wanted, a part of me wondered why you had. Deep down I wondered if I'd simply persuaded you into the ceremony or if I'd persuaded you into an entire life with me that you didn't actually want._

_My poker face served me well and hid my doubts and concerns. I put it aside and decided that I'd find out as our life together unfolded. _

_Then you gave me that new ring. It's beautiful; but that's not what had me bursting into tears that night. It was the gesture itself and what it symbolized. And that you said you'd been wanting to give me that for a long time. It kind of reassured me that you did really want me for me...and not just because you knocked me up and felt obligated. _

_Of course, you know that all went to hell during the actual ceremony. I won't dwell there too long, except to say that I was devastated and confused at the things you were saying and accusing me of. _

_And then I was scared out of my mind when I felt the pain. I won't say any more about that...you were there and I seriously don't want to relive it. The terror that I felt was unreal...it's still hard to wrap my head around the fact that I could have died that night and taken our child right along with me. _

_But, going backwards for a second, it's been really helpful for me to read your version of things. Even though the ending to our night was absolutely horrifying...I had to smile a little bit when I read that you'd planned to talk to me about the whole "fake pregnancy" thing in a few days. You have no idea how much that comforted me. That, even if I had done something that horrible, you love me enough to try to work things out. _

_I'm extremely sorry that my father had you arrested. His panic over me combined with the fact that you two basically hate each other drove him over the edge, I guess. I'm glad that Shane was there to be the voice of reason and to set my mother straight. _

_I can't imagine what it must have been like for you to think that you had...well, ended my life and the life of our baby. I read about your feelings, of course. But, I'm sure that only scratches the surface. Writing down what you're feeling is one thing...but you lived it. _

_And to make matters worse, those cops were horribly insensitive to our situation. You're very gracious by saying they were just doing their job...but anybody who saw what happened wouldn't dare to say that you had purposely tried to seriously hurt me. They pushed you too hard and said such awful things. They made you believe that you're some kind of wife-beater. And you're not. I hope you realize that and never let anyone convince you of any different._

_A chill creeps down my spine at the fact that you were locked up with men who believed that lie. Men that wanted to pummel you. I just thank God that my doctor was able to have me on my feet so quickly. I don't want to even think about what could have happened to you if you'd been left in that place for another day. _

_Hunter, I really want to work this out. We know where we've gone wrong now, but that's not enough. We need to know why. I think the primary reason is that we clam up our true feelings way too often. That's the theme I keep seeing as I glance between your story and my letter; your memories and mine. _

_I may not always understand what you're going through or what you're thinking. But, you'll never know unless you try. And I can promise you that at the very least, I will try to understand. If you make that same promise to me, I think we'll be just fine._

_Love,_

_Stephanie _

Hunter folded the papers back into a neat bundle. The only problem with writing their feelings down was that they couldn't see each other's expressions. If Stephanie had tried to verbalize what she'd written, he had no doubt she would have turned into a weeping mess. So, in that way it was efficient for getting her thoughts out. But, he didn't like that at the time she surely needed some consoling, he had been downstairs flipping through their hundreds of channels, randomly.

He placed the bundle down on the coffee table before getting up and making his way upstairs. He pushed open the door to the bedroom and couldn't help but smile.

Stephanie was propped up against a couple of pillows on her side of the bed. A baby book lay open across her stomach, with her right hand resting on top of it. Her left hand was extended, almost as if she'd been reaching for him. He removed the book from its position, closing it and placing it on the nightstand next to her.

He leaned down and whispered, "Steph?"

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter before finally opening them to see her husband smiling down at her. How did she manage to fall asleep and how long had she been out? Clearly, long enough for him to finish reading what she had written him.

A loud yawn escaped her as she stretched her arms above her head. "Yeah?" She asked.

"I promise," was all he said before he pressed his lips against hers in a sweet, unhurried kiss.


End file.
